RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


A  NOVEL 


KATHARINE  DONELSON 


CHICAGO 
LAIRD  &  LEE,  PUBLISHERS 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1891, 

By  KATHARINE  DONALDSON, 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED. 


TO  MY  MOTHER 

The  heart  which,  like  a  staff,  was  one 
For  mine  to  lean  and  rest  upon. 
The  strongest  on  the  longest  day 
With  steadfast  love — " 
This  book  is 

Affectionately  Dedicated 


2135387   I 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


CHAPTER  I. 

It  was  a  summer  evening  in  the  last  week  of  August  of 
188 — .  The  inhabitants  of  the  suburban  university  town 
of  Edgewood,  situated  on  the  lake  shore, within  ten  miles 
of  the  city  of  Clinton,  had  closed  their  doors  and  windows 
against  the  dense  fog,  that  with  the  setting  of  the  sun, 
had  rolled  down  the  lake  from  the  north,  and  enveloped 
the  village.  The  fog  was  so  heavy  that  within  an  hour 
after  it  had  settled  upon  the  numberless  shade  trees  of  the 
town,  they  were  dripping  as  though  in  a  rain,  and  the 
sidewalks  below  were  wet.  The  lamps  at  the  street 
corners  could  be  seen  but  a  short  distance,  and  then  only 
as  small  circles  of  luminous  fog.  The  houses  loomed  up 
indistinctly  and  ghost-like,  on  either  side  of  the  wide 
streets.  In  some,  no  light  at  all  could  be  seen,  in  others 
the  lamps  from  within,  cast  their  rays  through  the  trans- 
lucent mist,  increasing  the  spectral  aspect  of  the  dismal 
night.  On  a  side  street,  some  three  squares  from  the 
university  buildings,  stood  the  house  of  Professor  McVey. 
There  was  no  fence  around  his  place,  and  a  broad  gravel 
walk  led  up  to  the  four  steps,  that  ascended  to  the  piazza 
that  ran  across  the  two  front  rooms,  and  the  hall,  and 
down  the  south  side  of  the  old-fashioned,  square,  wooden 
house,  that  was  painted  white,  and  had  old-fashioned 
green  blinds  to  its  windows.  A  large  hammock  full  of 
pillows,  hung  across  one  end  of  the  piazza,  and  near  it 
was  grouped  three  red  lawn  chairs,  a  weather-beaten 
steamer  chair,  and  a  rustic  lounge.  The  hall  was  dimly 
lighted,  but  from  the  room  on  the  right,  which  was  Pro- 
7 


8  RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 

fessor  McVey's  study,  there  came  through  the  yellow  silk 
sash  curtains,  that  covered  the  lower  half  of  the  two  front 
windows,  a  glowing  light  that  indicated  warmth  and 
cheerfulness  within.  The  room  was  occupied  by  Professor 
McVey,  who  sat  in  front  of  a  blazing  wood  fire,  his  legs 
stretched  straight  out,  so  that  his  feet  might  rest  upon 
the  wicker  wood  basket  that  stood  at  the  corner  of  the 
fireplace;  and  a  young  girl  of  twenty,  the  only  child  of 
this  sixty-five  year  old  man,  and  a  young  man  sitting  on 
a  sofa  beside  the  fire,  who  was  gazing  at  the  girl,  as  she 
leaned  over  the  back  of  her  father's  chair,  to  kiss  the 
head  she  held  between  her  arms,  that  were  placed  each 
side  of  her  father's  neck,  and  crossed  below  his  chin. 
This  girl  was  small,  delicate,  and  graceful,  dressed  in 
black  silk,  the  waist  of  which  was  made  without  sleeves, 
and  was  cut  with  a  low,  square  neck.  Over  the  black 
silk,  was  worn  a  black  lace  overdress,  the  sleeves  of 
which  covered  the  white,  plump  arms.  The  square  neck 
was  trimmed  with  a  lace  edging,  that  was  held  together 
below  the  throat  by  a  slender  golden  oar,  that  was  won  by 
the  girl  a  few  weeks  before  in  a  feminine  rowing  match. 
Her  only  ornament  was  a  bunch  of  goldenrod,  that  was 
thrust  into  her  belt,  and  lay  close  against  the  waist  in 
front.  It  was  a  beautiful  face  that  leaned  down  close 
beside  the  old  man's  cheek;  the  eyes  were  large  and  dark 
blue,  with  long  lashes,  several  shades  darker  than  the 
light  brown  hair  that  was  arranged  in  fluffy  short  curls 
across  the  forehead,  and  in  a  loose  knot  low  on  the  back 
of  the  head. 

"  Well,  papa,"  said  Margaret  McVey,  as  she  pressed  one 
of  her  cheeks  against  her  father's  thin  face,  "  why  can't 
;ou  come  home  earlier  to-morrow ;  didn't  we  have  a  pleas- 
ant ride  to-day  ?" 

"Yes,  my  darling,  it  was  very  pleasant,  but  sufficiently 
long,  I  think." 


RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE  9 

"Not  half  long  enough  for  me,"  said  Margaret  as  she 
placed  her  head  on  the  other  side  of  her  father's,  and 
kissed  his  cheek.  The  old  man  lay  as  in  a  trance,  with 
closed  eyes,  as  his  daughter  gently  stroked  his  side 
whiskers  and  chin,  kissed  the  top  of  his  bald  head,  and 
then  again  rested  her  cheek  against  his.  "You  dear 
papa,  I  do  believe  you  are  getting  old,"  she  continued, 
"  you  don't  like  to  ride  as  well  as  you  used  to,  and  Doctor 
Kean  says  riding  is  the  best  thing  in  the  world  for  you. 
No,  I  won't  let  you  go  until  I  kiss  you  good-night."  And 
she  clasped  her  hands  tightly  across  her  father's  throat,  as 
though  to  hold  him  fast,  which  appeared  to  be  an  unnec- 
essary precaution,  for  the  father  looked  as  though  time 
itself  would  be  too  short  for  his  resting  under  those  little 
loving  hands. 

"You  know,"  pursued  Margaret,  "that  you  said  you 
would  do  just  as  I  wished  you  to,  during  vacation,  and 
you  must  not  shut  yourself  up  in  that  clftse  college  library 
so  much.  We  will  drive  to-morrow  if  you  wish,  but  we 
must  be  out  of  doors  two  hours;  will  you  do  that,  papa?" 

"Yes,  yes  darling;  I  will  not  go  over  to  the  college  at 
all  after  luncheon  if  you  do  not  think  it  best." 

"  That  would  be  lovely!  Good-night,  papa."  And  again 
the  soft  warm  cheek  pressed  the  thin  cold  one. 

"Good-night,  my  child."  But  the  flaxen  curls  rested 
quietly  against  the  gray  beard.  How  happy  is  tired  age 
in  its  quiet  submission  to  loving  youth!  For  a  few  min- 
utes there  was  silence  in  the  room,  the  eyes  of  the  young 
man  sitting  on  the  sofa  were  full  of  unwonted  tenderness, 
as  they  rested  on  the  face  of  the  gentle  girl,  pressed  close, 
as  though  in  brooding  care,  to  the  wan  face  of  the  old 
man.  As  the  clock  on  the  mantel  struck  half-past  nine, 
Margaret  slowly  raised  her  head,  once  more  pressed  her 
hands  beside  each  cheek,  once  more  kissed  the  bald  head. 


10  RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 

"  Now  don't  sit  up  late,  papa,  for  we're  to  have  a  long 
drive  to-morrow.  When  you  and  Rodger  get  to  talking, 
you  never  know  when  to  stop."  This  assertion  was  not 
based  upon  a  knowledge  of  facts,  for  Professor  McVey 
and  Rodger  Latimer  rarely  gave  more  time  to  each  other 
than  conventional  politeness  required,  but  it  was  the 
illogical  expression  of  a  fear  of  a  long  talk  that  special 
night,  for  Margaret  knew  that  Rodger  had  come  to  speak 
with  her  father  regarding  his  professional  location.  As 
she  rose  from  the  back  of  her  father's  chair,  Rodger 
Latimer  also  rose  and  stepped  toward  her  with  an  ex- 
tended hand. 

"You  will  bid  me  good-night,  Margery?"  he  said.  In 
a  flash,  the  expression  of  her  face  changed  from  an  almost 
motherly  tenderness,  so  womanly  it  was,  to  a  girlish 
archness. 

"Certainly  sir,  good-night,"  she  replied,  as  she  made 
him  a  profound  courtesy.  "  I  shall  hope  to  see  you  in 
the  morning,"  she  added,  throwing  him  a  kiss  from  the 
tip  of  her  fingers,  as  her  head  was  turned  over  her  shoulder 
toward  him,  as  she  tripped  out  of  the  room. 

Rodger  Latimer  returned  to  his  seat  on  the  sofa,  and 
looked  into  the  fire,  with  a  happy  expression  of  contented 
proprietorship  on  his  face.  After  a  few  moments  he  raised 
his  eyes  to  encounter  the  steadily  fixed  gaze  of  Professor 
McVey.  He  hastened  to  speak : 

"I  fear  that  I  am  keeping  you  up,  Professor,  but  I'll 
not  detain  you  long. " 

"  Oh  no,  you  are  not,  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  and 
will  gladly  hear  all  you  have  to  say.  Do  not  hasten, 
Rodger,  but  say  all  that  you  wish  to." 

"I  wish"  said  the  young  man,  "that  I  could  have 
followed  your  advice  in  the  choice  of  a  profession.  I  have 
felt  all  through  the  past  two  years,  that  in  studying  law 


RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE  „ 

I  was  placing  myself  in  opposition  to  your  wishes  and 
judgment,  and  deeply  regretted  the  necessity." 

"  And  what  was  the  necessity  ?"  asked  Professor  Me Vey 
removing  his  searching  eyes  from  Mr.  Latimer's  face  to 
the  fire. 

"It  lay  in  my  own  judgment  and  preference,"  replied 
Mr.  Latimer;  "you  certainly  will  not  deny  that  in  the 
selection  of  a  vocation  a  man  should  choose  that  for 
which  his  friends,  and  he  himself,  believes  he  is  best 
fitted,  especially  if  that  choice  is  in  harmony  with  his 
inclinations." 

"  You  never  should  act  in  opposition  to  your  judgment," 
said  the  professor,"  the  inclination  perhaps  is  not  worthy 
of  as  much  consideration ;  but  you  must  remember  that  it 
was  your  father,  not  I,  that  wished  you  to  succeed  to  his 
place  in  the  college.  It  was  natural  and  right  that  I 
should  do  all  I  possibly  could  to  accomplish  his  last  wish, 
which  seemed  to  me  a  very  wise  and  proper  one.  To 
strive  to  fill  as  honorably  as  your  father  did,  the  chair  of 
mathematics  in  a  college  of  the  rank  of  this,  would  have 
been  a  noble  ambition  for  you,  and  in  such  a  position 
your  life  might  have  been  a  decidedly  happy  and  useful 
one.  Edgewood  is  a  desirable  place  of  residence."  A 
sneering  smile  for  half  a  second  flitted  across  the  young 
man's  face.  "  But  what  was  it,  Rodger,  you  particularly 
wished  to  speak  of  to-night?" 

"  I  thought  I  would  like  to  tell  you  that  I  have  rented 
an  office  on  Washington  street,  and  shall  commence  prac- 
tising in  October." 

"  You  think  Clinton  the  best  place  in  which  to  locate 
yourself?" 

"  I  don't  know  that  there  is  much  difference  in  cities, 
either  in  the  East  or  West;  it's  the  man,  not  the  place,  that 
brings  success  or  failure. " 


12  RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE 

"To  be  sure,"  replied  Professor  McVey,  "the  main 
thing  is  to  be  doing  something,  to  have  some  constant 
occupation,  something  for  which  a  man  is  responsible, 
that  requires  him  to  go  to  work  every  morning,  and  holds 
him  for  the  larger  number  of  hours  during  the  day ;  it 
don't  matter  so  much  what  the  work  is,"  again  an  expres- 
sion of  dissent  took  possession  of  the  young  man's  face, 
"provided  it  is  obligatory  and  systematic."  The  professor 
suddenly  wakened  up;  he  was  astride  of  his  hobby. 
"There  is  no  happiness  without  regular  employment,"  he 
continued;  "when  will  young  men  learn  this,  and  set 
themselves  to  some  stated  methodical  work  ?  One  of  the 
evils  of  locating  a  college  near  a  large  city,  is  the  great 
wealth  possessed  by  some  of  its  citizens;  the  large  amount 
of  money  spent  by  some  of  the  young  men  in  Clinton  is  a 
curse  to  them, and  their  example  is  a  snare  to  some  of  our 
students  who  are  dependent  upon  their  own  exertions  for 
a  livelihood.  It  made  me  sad  indeed,  when  I  was  in  New 
York  last  month,  to  see  how  some  of  the  sons  of  old 
friends  of  mine  lived.  It  was  lamentable;  yachting, 
shooting,  clubs,  and  the  theater,  seemed  to  fill  out  their 
lives.  They  had  no  interest  in  anything  outside  of  them- 
selves, no  sympathy  with  any  cause  or  organization  what- 
ever. They  seemed  to  think  their  daily  comfort  the  center 
of  a  revolving  universe,  in  which  their  bath  was  a  matter 
of  the  utmost  importance,  and  as  to  their  dinner,  it  was 
of  such  paramount  consideration  they  gravitated  toward  it 
for  hours,  and  seemed  to  think  it  worthy  of  their  most 
mature  thought.  Those  stalwart,  well  educated  young 
men  would  sit  round  for  hours  in  utter  idleness,  not 
knowing  what  to  do  with  themselves,  and  would  talk  of 
killing  time.  What  a  wicked  expression  that  is!  They 
were  being  eaten  up  by  sloth,  their  lives  passed  in  utter 
idleness,  cankering  idleness,  nor  is  it  strange  that  such 


RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  !3 

idleness  leads  to  wickedness.  I  was  told  that  some  of 
those  wealthy  young  men  do  not  lead  lives  of  absolute 
moral  rectitude.  I  am  very  glad,  Rodger,  that  you  have 
decided  to  work  at  anything,  anywhere." 

"  That  was  not  a  voluntary  decision,  sir,  and  while  I 
believe  that1  all  you  have  said  regarding  a  regular  employ- 
ment is  true  in  the  main,  work  with  me  is  a  necessity." 

"  What  are  your  prospects,  what  are  your  plans  ?" 

"My  plans  are,  to  begin  the  practice  of  law  in  Clinton 
this  autumn.  I  hope  to  crowd  my  two  feet  down  until  I 
find  standing  room,  and  then  I  must  fight  for  it,  work  for 
it,  perhaps,  would  be  better  to  say.' 

"You  are  well  equipped  for  the  effort,  Rodger,"  said 
Professor  McVey;  "  let  me  see,  how  old  are  you?" 

"I  am  twenty-eight." 

"What  a  heritage  is  youth!"  said  the  professor,  with 
earnestness,  rising  to  his  feet  and  leaning  his  elbow  on  a 
corner  of  the  mantelpiece,  and  resting  his  large  head 
against  his  thin  white  hand.  "Why,  my  young  friend, 
what  a  life  you  have  before  you!  Twenty-eight  years 
old,  with  unimpaired  health,  and  the  mental  discipline 
given  by  the  literary  and  law  course  at  Harvard.  You 
certainly  occupy  vantage  ground  at  the  beginning  of  the 
contest."  , 

"It's  not  a  question  of  health  or  of  will;  but  compe- 
tition is  sharp,  ana  every  inch  that  I  gain  I  must  struggle 
for.  I  have  no  doubt  of  the  ultimate  outcome,  of  that  I 
am  sure.  I  cannot,  or  at  least  I  do  not  expect  any  pecu- 
niary assistance  from  my  uncle;  I  suppose  he  feels  he  has 
done  his  full  duty  toward  me,  in  meeting  the  expenses  of 
my  college  education,  and  sending  me  through  the  law- 
school.  He  handed  me,  last  week,  a  receipted  rent  bill 
for  my  office  this  coming  year,  and  he  has  given  me  quite 
a  fair  law  library;  he  gave  me  a  check  for  fifteen  hun- 


I4  RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

dred  dollars,  with  the  receipted  rent  bill,  saying  as  he 
placed  it  in  my  hand, 'Now  Rodger, there  is  money  enough 
to  pay  your  first  year's  expenses,  and  by  Gad!  if  you 
can't  swim  after  that,  you  better  sink.'  "  Mr.  Latimer 
smiled  good  humoredly  as  he  repeated  the  remark  of  the 
brusque  business  man,  but  gentle  Professor  McVey  started 
as  with  a  nervous  shock,  the  words  seemed  to  him  brut- 
ally cruel.  With  a  little,  meaningless  laugh  Mr.  Latimer 
continued,  dashing  right  into  the  subject  nearest  his  heart, 
and  the  one  he  especially  came  to  speak  of  that  night. 
"  I  did  not  wish  to  leave  Edgewood,  professor,  without 
speaking  to  you  regarding  my  engagement  with  your 
daughter.  I  beg  that  you  will  consent  to  our  being  mar- 
ried as  soon  as  I  have  a  home  to  offer  her." 

Professor  McVey  reseated  himself,  and  gazed  into  the 
fire  with  a  troubled  expression.  He  had  always  been  a 
bookworm,  and  from  boyhood  up,  an  enthusiastic  philol- 
ogist. For  many  years  he  had  been  a  teacher  of  ancieni 
languages,  and  had  lived  more  in  the  past,  than  the  pres- 
ent. He  knew  Grecians  and  Romans  better  than  his  own 
countrymen,  the  issues  of  the  nineteenth  century  were 
trivial  to  him,  compared  with  those  of  the  first,  and  no 
poet  or  statesman  of  modern  times,  gave  him  the  intel- 
lectual pleasure,  or  commanded  his  reverence,  as  did  those 
of  hundreds  of  years  ago.  The  streets  of  Athens,  her 
shaded  walks,  her  Acropolis,  were  more  real  to  him  than 
the  elms  and  buildings  of  his  Yale  Alma  Mater.  His 
library  and  classroom  bounded  his  world,  and  the  scien- 
tific and  religious  struggles  of  to-day,  the  vital  questions 
of  capital  and  labor,  civil  service  reform  and  national 
finance,  elicited  from  him  but  little  attention,  and  no 
interest,  so  pre-occupied  was  his  mind  with  ancient  phi- 
losophy and  poetry.  It  was  said  that  only  once  was  he  ever 
seen  by  his  students  to  shed  tears,  and  that  was  one  day 


RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE  15 

when  he  was  reading  to  an  outgoing  class  Socrates' 
Apology.  As  he  gave  utterance  to  the  lofty  sentiments 
of  the  Greek  sage,  his  enthusiasm  kindled,  a  color  flushed 
his  pale  face,  his  eye  lighted  up  with  unusual  fire,  and 
his  voice  trembled  with  emotion;  higher  and  higher  rose 
the  tide  of  his  feelings,  till  at  last  he  burst  into  tears. 
But  this -teacher,  who  could  become  so  possessed  of  the 
noblest  passion  as  he  read  the  words  of  Socrates,  passed 
through  our  civil  war,  without  any  desire  to  understand 
the  underlying  causes  of  the  contest,  and  with  his  sym- 
pathies hardly  touched  by  the  sufferings  of  either  side. 
He  lived  in  another  time,  his  heart  was  fixed  upon  other 
things.  But  -after  all,  this  Greek  teacher  knew,  when  he 
stopped  to  think  of  it,  that  death  comes  to  all ;  his  own 
wife  Millicent,  whose  portrait  hung  over  the  mantel  right 
before  him,  and  to  which  he  now  turned  his  troubled  eyes 
from  the  fire,  had  been  laid  under  the  sod  five  years 
before.  Every  time  he  went  to  the  city  he  saw  the  marble 
stone  that  marked  her  grave,  gleaming  white  through 
the  trees  of  Oakwood  cemetery.  His  Millicent,  that 
gentle  New  England  girl,  whom  he  first  saw  in  the  church, 
on  "The  Green,"  of  a  village  on  Long  Island  sound, 
that  gentle  wife  who  never  said  nay  to  her  catechism,  her 
husband,  or  society;  that  gentle  wife  was  gone  from  his 
house,  and  he  and  Margaret  were  alone  together.  Some 
day,  he  must  die — Margaret  alone!  utterly  alone!  The 
look  of  painful  uncertainty  suddenly  left  his  face  as  he 
turned  toward  Mr.  Latimer,  and  said,  as  impetuously  as 
it  was  possible  for  him  to  speak :  "  Rodger,  be  married 
this  autumn,  and  live  here  with  us,  and  go  into  the  city 
every  day  to  your  business.  As  I  think  of  it,  this  is 
Margaret's  house,  left  her  by  her  mother,  so  it  will  be 
yours.  Be  married,  and  live  here." 

The  blood  flew  into  Mr.  Latimer's  face,  flushing  it  deep 


t6  RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

red,  over  the  high  forehead  to  the  roots  of  the  short  hair. 

"Live  here  as  your  guest?    Impossible,  sir!" 

"  And  why  not  ?"  asked  the  professor. 

"  If  I  succeed  as  I  hope  to,  I  must  live  in  Clinton.  I 
must  identify  myself  with  the  city,  make  acquaintances 
among  the  business  men,  and  become  a  part  of  its  society, 
as  far  as  I  can.  I  hope  to  make  a  home  for  Margaret  in 
the  city." 

"  And  take  her  there  to  live?"  asked  the  alarmed  father. 

"If  I  live  there,  I  suppose  she  will  live  with  me,  that 
is,  if  I  have  the  honor  and  happiness  of  making  her  my 
wife." 

Professor  McVey  leaned  wearily  back  in  his  chair;  a 
shadow  had  fallen  upon  his  path,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
just  then,  that  it  would  never  pass  off.  For  the  first 
time,  he  had  faced  the  possibility  of  a  separation  from 
his  daughter.  "  Sixty-five  is  not  so  very  old,"  he  thought 
as  he  closed  his  eyes,  "  and  she  is  only  twenty ;  why  may 
we  not  have  many  happy  years  here  together,  in  our  own 
dear  home. "  Everything  seemed  vague  and  uncertain,  he 
could  not  imagine  a  life  without  Margaret,  and  his  mind 
was  simply  paralyzed,  as  he  attempted  to  grasp  such  a 
thought.  Mr.  Latimer  looked  at  the  pallid  face  quivering 
with  emotion,  across  the  chasm  that  yawns  between  youth 
and  age,  but  ignorant,  and  unconsciously  selfish  as  he 
was,  his  heart  was  touched  by  the  suffering  aspect  of  the 
old  man,  which  was  that  of  one  shrinking  from  an  im- 
pending blow.  He  hastened  to  speak :  "  I  could  not  pos- 
sibly be  married  for  a  year  or  so,  my  financial  condition 
would  not  permit  it.  I  think  Margaret  and  I  love  each 
other  enough  to  wait  patiently,  until  my  income  would 
reasonably  warrant  our  marriage,  but  when  that  time 
comes,  professor,  it  must  not  occasion  a  separation  be- 
tween you  and  Margaret.  To  rob  you  of  your  daughter 


RODGER    LATI.MER'S    MISTAKE  17 

would  be  a  poor  return  for  all  of  your  love  for  my  father, 
and  your  kindness  to  myself.  I  hope  you  will  consent 
that  we  all  live  together  somewhere,  either  here,  or  in 
Clinton." 

"  Any  way,  any  way,  Rodger,  only  do  not  take  Margaret 
from  me,"  said  the  professor  as  he  slowly  opened  his  eyes. 
The  conversation  was  ended  for  the  night,  and  very  soon 
Mr.  Latimer  took  his  leave  for  the  boarding  house,  where 
he  had  occupied  rooms  during  the  Harvard  vacations,  for 
the  last  four  years,since  the  death  of  his  father  had  broken 
up  his  own  home  in  Edgewood.  Professor  McVey  bade 
him  good-night  at  the  frcnt  door,  which  he  closed  after 
him,  turned  the  key  in  the  lock,  and  slowly  mounted  the 
stairs,  carrying  to  his  chamber  a  sadder  heart  than  he 
had  known,  since  the  face  of  his  gentle  wife  was  covered 
from  his  sight  in  that  very  room. 


2  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  next  morning,  Margaret  saw  that  something  was 
the  mattej  with  her  father.  He  scarcely  tasted  his  coffee, 
and  she  noticed  that  his-  bacon  and  muffin  remained  un- 
touched on  his  plate.  He  did  not  sit  at  the  table  more 
than  one-half  of  the  time  he  usually  spent  over  his  break- 
fast, but  went  to  his  study  and  seated  himself  before  the 
brightly  burning  wood  fire.  A  fire  was  frequently  needed 
in  August,  both  morning  and  evening,  in  that  lake  region, 
to  make  a  house  comfortable.  He  placed  his  thin,  cold 
hands  near  the  crackling  blaze  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  took  up  the  morning  paper ;  but  Margaret  saw  that 
he  was  not  reading,  for  his  eyes  were  fixed  immovably  on 
one  place.  As  the  clock  struck  nine,  he  cast  off  his 
slippers,  took  his  shoehorn  from  a  corner  of  the  mantel, 
and  put  on  his  shoes.  While  doing  this,  he  said  to  Mar- 
garet who  was  sitting  near/'  I  must  go  a  little  earlier  than 
usual  this  morning,  Margaret,  as  I  have  to  take  the  proof 
of  our  library  catalogue  back  to  Morrison  to-day;  they 
wish  to  get  it  into  press  as  soon  as  possible." 

Margaret  seated  herself  on  the  carpet  at  her  father's 
feet,  as  had  been  her  habit  for  years,  and  tied  up  his  shoe 
strings,  and  buttoned  his  gaiters  around  his  ankles.  "  I 
shall  not  be  home  to  luncheon,"  the  professor  continued, 
in  a  sad  voice,  as  he  placed  his  hand  lightly  on  the  loose 
knot  of  soft  hair  that  was  close  to.  his  knee.  It  was  an 
unusual  caress  from  him,  and  the  sad  tone  and  gentle 
touch,  filled  Margaret's  eyes  with  tears.  She  bent  low 
over  the  dear  feet,  yes,  even  the  shoe  strings  and  gaiter 
buttons  were  dear  to  her.  "  I  think,"  he  continued,  "  that 
I  will  stop  in  and  take  lunch  with  Miss  Sargent,and  come 
18 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  jp 

home  on  the  three-thirty  train ;  that  will  give  us  two  hours 
for  either  a  ride  or  a  drive,  whichever  you  choose,  my 
child." 

Margaret  opened  the  screen  door  for  him,  and  stood  on 
the  upper  step,  as  he  passed  down  from  the  piazza;  when 
he  was  two  steps  below  her,  she  threw  her  arms  around  his 
neck,  and  held  him  tightly,  as  she  rested  her  chin  on  his 
shoulder. 

"Papa,  what  did  Rodger  say  to  you  last  night,"  she 
asked,"  that  made  you  sad  ?  you  ought  to  tell  all  that  you 
and  he  talked  about." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  he  said  anything  that  made  me 
sad  ?" 

"  Oh, I  know,  I  guess  it;  don't  you  know  that  we  women 
can  guess  everything?"  she  asked,as  she  gave  him  a  little 
impetuous  hug.  "  Now  you  must  tell  me  what  "it  was,  or  I 
shall  be  real  unhappy." 

"He  did  not  say  much  of  anything,  excepting  that  he 
wished  to  take  you  to  Clinton  to  live  with  him."  Both 
stood  very  still;  Margaret's  face  turned  rosy  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  her  eyes  grew -large  and  luminous,  but  only  for 
a  moment,  for  the  anxiety  of  the  daughter  just  then,  dom- 
inated the  sweetheart.  Never  before  had  they  spoken  to- 
gether of  Rodger,  as  holding  any  special  relation  to  the 
family.  Professor  McVey  knew  that  the  diamond  that 
had  sparkled  on  Margaret's  finger  for  the  last  year,  had 
been  placed  there  by  Rodger;. he  knew  that  Rodger,  all  of 
his  life,  had  come  to  the  house  as  though  it  were  his  own 
home,  and  why  shouldn't  he,  the  only  child  of  his  own 
dearest  friend,  his  classmate,  and  associate  college  pro- 
fessor for  years,  the  friend  who  had  died  in  his  arms  four 
years  ago?  He  knew — but  that  was  so  dream  like,  in 
such  a  far  away  future — that  Rodger  and  Margaret  would 
be  married  some  day;  but  it  never  seemed  to  him  that 


20  RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE 

this,  his  own  little  Margaret,  who  flitted  around  his  house, 
and  was  always  by  to  cut  his  magazines  and  foreign 
papers,  and  pour  out  his  coffee  and  light  his  cigar,  and  but- 
ton his  gaiters,  was  the  Margaret  who  was  to  marry  Rodger ; 
that  was  some  other  Margaret,  a  girl  in  a  book,  or 
one  out  in  the  world  somewhere.  And  Margaret  had 
always  kept  her  blissful  dreams  and  reveries  close  within 
her  own  heart,  and  why  should  she  not ;  there  were  no  de- 
cisions to  be  made,  no  questions  to  settle,  only  the  pres- 
ent hour,  crowded  full  of  happiness,  to  be  enjoyed.  She 
could  talk  of  Rodger,  as  Professor  Latimer's  son,  of  Rod- 
ger, the  Harvard  student,  the  law  student,  the  friend  who 
brought  her  books  and  rode  with  her  in  her  father's  ab- 
sence, but  Rodger  the  lover!  ah,  that  was  a  very  differ- 
ent matter.  The  future  marriage  was  almost  as  indefinite 
an  affair  to  her,  as  to  her  father;  that  was  far  off,  impos- 
sible to  realize,  and  little  thought  of.  To  be  sure,  she  had 
dreamed  of  a  home  with  Rodger,  of  opening  the  door  for 
his  coming,  of  the  evenings  together  with  books,  all 
alone,  they  two,  within  the  sacred  four  walls  of  home,  of 
the  long  talks  before  the  blazing  fire,  of  the  dainty  table, 
with  its  delicate  linen  and  china,  a  home  where  all  was  a 
sweet  medley  of  color  and  warmth,  and  where,  over  all, 
and  through  all,  was  tender,  brooding  love;  yes,  such  a 
home  there  was  somewhere,  but  whether  in  the  clouds,  or 
in  the  air,  or  on  the  earth,  this  dreaming  maiden  heart 
never  stopped  to  think  or  ask,  the  present  was  too  satis- 
fying to  be  disturbed  by  anticipations  or  calculations.  But 
Rodger's  statement  last  evening  that  he  was  to  live  in 
Clinton,  and  that  he  wished  to  have  Margaret  live  there 
with  him,  brought  the  misty  future  of  the  father's  in- 
definite thought  crashing  into  the  present,  with  a  sick- 
ening reality  to  Professor  McVey;  and  the  sad  voice  and 
dejected  air  of  the  loved  father,  smote  the  daughter's 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE  21 

heart  with  a  sharp  pain,  and  awakened  all  of  her  sym- 
pathy. 

"Take  me  to  Clinton  to  live  with  him!"  repeated  Mar- 
garet after  a  moment's  silence.  "O  he  could  not  have  said 
that,  papa;  you  must  have  misunderstood  him." 

"No,  no,  Margaret,  that  was  just  what  he  said,"  re- 
plied Professor  McVey  in  a  broken  voice. 

"But  not  for  a  long  time  yet,  papa?" 

"I  know,  not  now,  I  don't  remember  just  when,  but  it 
was  to  be  sometime." 

"Now  papa,"  said  Margaret,  "you  .and  I  have  some- 
thing to  say  about  that,  and  I  never,  never,  never,  will 
leave  you,  and  go  and  live  in  Clinton."  She  emphasized 
each  repeated  never,  with  a  little  pressure  on  her  father's 
chest,  right  under  his  chin,  with  her  clasped  hands.  "  If 
Rodger  wishes,"  she  continued,  "to  come  here  and  live 
with  us,  all  right.  Auntie  will  give  him  the  nicest  dinner, 
and  he  may  ride  with  you  and  me,  and  sit  on  the  sofa  and 
read  in  the  evenings  and  smoke  his  cigars,  and  we  all  will 
be  real  good  to  him,  but  if  he  wants  to  live  in  Clinton 
and  be  worth  a  million,  and  make  a  chief-justice  of  him- 
self, he  must  do  it  alone.  We  won't  have  our  nice  time's 
spoilt,  because  he  is  determined  to  be  rich  and  great,  will 
we,  you  dear  old  papa?"  And  then  she  gave  a  down- 
right close  hug  to  the  neck  she  held,  and  pressed  the  side 
of  her  head  against  the  old  man's  ear.  For  an  instant  it 
was  a  question  of  breath  with  Professor  McVey,  but  even 
with  the  choking  sensation  in  his  throat,  it  was  one  of  the 
happiest  moments  of  his  -life.  Away  flew  all  fear;  that 
hateful  future  went  back  to  its  mists;  Clinton  faded  into 
indistinctness,  Athens  and  Rome  took  their  old  solid 
places  again,  and  the  philosophers  came  out  with  togas 
free  from  dust,  and  crowded  poor  Rodger  Latimer  into 
dreamy  obscurity. 


22  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"No,  no,  Margaret,  we  will  not,  if  you  say  so." 

"And  I  do  say  so,"  quickly  interrupted  Margaret. 
"And  now  papa,  you  must  go,  or  you  won't  have  time  to 
get  your  proof  and  catch  the  10:30  train.  Don't  get  oft 
the  cars  till  they  have  stopped  perfectly  still,  will  you? 
Did  you  know  that  Mr.  Dickinson  stepped  off  at  Stanhope 
station  yesterday,  before  the  cars  stopped,  and  sprained 
his  ankle?  I'll  have  the  carriage  at  the  depot  for  you, 
and  we  will  drive  right  on  from  there;  perhaps  we'd  better 
not  ride  this  evening,  as  it  is  growing  warmer;  what  do 
you  think?" 

"Just  as  you  like,  Margaret,  it  is  immaterial  to  me; 
but  I  think  there  is  a  prospect  of  a  comfortably  cool 
day." 

Margaret  was  satisfied  with  the  cheerful  tone  of  her 
father's  voice;  he  was  at  peace  again.  She  watched  him 
as  he  went  briskly  on  under  the  elms  and  maples,  that 
entirely  shaded  the  sidewalk  from  the  rays  of  the  warm 
August  sun  that  had  scattered  the  fog  of  the  night  be- 
fore, and  as  he  turned  the  corner  toward  the  college,  she 
walked  slowly  into  the  house,  down  the  length  of  the 
hall,  and  entered  the  room  back  of  her  father's  study,  by 
opening  a  door,  and  pushing  aside  one  of  the  double  por- 
tieres that  hung  within.  This  was  Margaret's  special 
room,  library,  sitting  room,  music  room,  all  in  one. 
Margaret's  "  Sans-Souci,"  her  father  called  it.  The  only 
two  windows  in  the  room,  which  were  west  windows, 
looked  into  an  old  apple  orchard,  that  was  dearly  loved 
by  Margaret;  some  of  the  trees  were  so  near  the  house, 
that  one  standing  by  the  window  could,  in  May,  pluck 
handfuls  of  apple  blossoms  from  the  outstretching  boughs, 
and  in  the  autumn,  gather  the  red  and  yellow  apples  in 
the  same  way.  Frequently  in  the  springtime,  Margaret 
would  have  a  "  stretcher"  placed  under  the  trees,  on  which 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  23 

she  would  lie,  gazing  up  into  the  canopy  of  white  and 
pink  blossoms  and  green  leaves,  that  entirely  shut  out  the 
blue  sky.  Here  she  would  yield  herself  to  the  dreamy 
reveries  of  youth  and  love,  the  twilight  dimness  that  sur- 
rounded her  being  broken  only  by  the  hum  of  insects  and 
sleepy  twitter  of  birds.  There  were  three  doors  in  the 
room,  one  from  the  hall,  one  entering  her  father's  study, 
and  the  third  opening  onto  the  south  piazza.  The 
piazza  was  heavily  covered  with  ivy,  which  Margaret  had 
cut  and  trimmed  in  low  arches  between  the  pillars,  giv- 
ing the  piazza  the  appearance  of  a  shaded  arcade.  All 
of  the  furniture  of  Margaret's  room  was  dainty  and  choice, 
but  there  was  one  piece  that  deserves  a  moment's  special 
attention.  This  was  an  elaborately  carved  ebony  lounge, 
that  possessed  an  unusual  history.  A  Mrs.  Lundom  White, 
an  ambitious  society  woman  of  Clinton,  and  a  prominent 
member  of  the  leading  woman's  literary  club  of  that  city, 
found  in  Florence  an  old  ebony  chest  of  huge  proportions, 
which  by  an  outlay  of  money  sufficient  to  have  purchased 
and  stocked  a  Western  farm,  she  placed  in  the  hands  of  a 
Clinton  cabinet-maker.  Under  her  directions,  this  chest, 
evefy  inch  of  which  was  most  beautifully  carved,  was 
converted  into  two  settees,  the  straight,  square  backs  ot 
which,  and  the  straight,  square  arms,  and  front  piece  that 
reached  to  the  floor,  being  entirely  composed  of  the  curious 
carving.  One  of  these  settees  Mrs.  Lundom  White  placed 
in  the  spacious  hall  of  her  own  city  residence,  the  other 
she  gave  to  her  "  dear  friend  Professor  McVey,  the  dear- 
est man  in  the  world,"  as  she  declared,  "and  just  the  one 
to  appreciate  that  lovely  old  carving,  such  an  antiquarian 
as  he  is!"  Professor  McVey  never  thought,  and  cer- 
tainly Mrs.  Lundom  White  never  once  said,  that  the  gift 
of  the  settee  was  prompted  by  a  sense  of  obligation  that 
she  felt  toward  the  professor,  for  the  assistance  which  he 


24  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

had  rendered  her  in  the  preparation  of  the  literary  papers 
that  she  had  read  from  time  to  time,  before  "  The  New 
Era"  club.  These  essays,  that  were  entitled  "  The  Greeks 
and  Their  Literature,""  Hypatia  and  Her  Compeers,"  had 
been  placed  in  his  hands  by  her  for  revisal,  and  had  re- 
ceived the  most  copious  corrections  and  annotations.  It 
was  really  a  great  pleasure  for  Professor  McVey,  to  re- 
store in  Mrs.  White's  manuscript,  his  old  Greek  friends  to 
their  right  minds,  and  correct  the  anachronisms  therein. 
The  reading  of  these  essays  gave  her  an  enviable  repu- 
tation in  the  club;  one  of  its  members,  a  lady  of  high  social 
position,  wrote  to  a  friend  of  hers  residing  in  London, 
to  whom  she  had  given  Mrs.  White  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion, "  You  will  find  that  Mrs.  White  has  an  exhaustive 
knowledge  of  Jthe  Greeks,  their  art,  customs  and  liter- 
ature." It  was  a  warm  day  early  in  December  that  Mrs. 
White  took  one  of  her  papers  to  the  professor,  and  sat  in 
his  study  with  an  expression  of  pensive  penitence  on  her 
face. 

"You  know  dear  Professor,  that  I  am  growing  old,"  she 
said,  "  and  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  give  less  time  to  society, 
and  more  to  books  and  reflection.  It  is  very  kind  in  you 
to  help  me,  you  live  in  such  an  Eden  out  here  under  these 
trees,  that  you  can't  realize  how  difficult  it  is  for  me  in 
that  crowded  city  to  be  good,  but  I'm  determined  to  try, 
and  give  more  time  to  books.  Please  don't  say  anything 
to  any  one  about  my  poor  attempts  at  self  improvement," 
she  continued,  as  with  a  benign  smile  he  took  the  manu- 
script from  her  faultlessly  gloved  hand.  When  the  society 
woman  had  taken  herself  back  to  the  city,  she  exclaimed 
to  her  sister,  as  she  threw  off  her  wraps  in  her  luxuriously 
furnished  bedroom:  "I  declare  Marie,  I  feel  as  though 
I  had  just  crawled  out  of  my  coffin.  I  wouldn't  live  in 
Edgewood  for  all  of  America.  You've  no  idea  of  the  place, 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  25. 

Professor  McVey's  house  is  as  still  as  the  grave,  and  he 
looks  as  though  he  had  sat  right  there  for  a  thousand 
years;  but  I  must  say  that  he  was  very  polite  to  me,  and 
he  will  get  my  paper  in  fine  shape.  The  poor  old  goosie 
quite  brightened  up,  when  I  talked  of  Conway,  and  of  the 
people  we  used  to  know  there.  Now  mind,  don't  you  for 
your  life  ever  let  any  one  know  that  I  went  to  Professor 
McVey's.  We  go  to  the  theater  with  Mrs.  Richmond  to- 
night, don't  we?"  continued  Mrs.  White,  suddenly  chang- 
ing the  subject.  "  I'm  glad  Grey  Whitridge  is  to  be 
there,  now  go  and  take  a  nap,  so  you  will  look  bright." 
And  so  it  came,  that  the  Florentine  ebony  chest  rested 
at  last  in  the  shape  of  a  settee  in  Margaret's  room,  where 
her  father  had  directed  it  to  be  placed,  on  its  arrival  from 
Clinton.  As  Margaret  entered  her  room  after  bidding  her 
father  good-bye  on  the  piazza,  she  closed  the  door  behind 
her,  dropped  the  portiere  over  it,  and  seated  herself  in  a 
wicker  chair  beside  the  center  table,  and  gazing  uncon- 
sciously at  the  ebony  settee,  she  was  lost  in  thought,  until 
recalled  by  a  knock  at  the  hall  door. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Only  four  persons  ever  asked  for  admittance  to  Mar- 
garet's Sans-Souci.  They  were  her  father,  Miss  Sargent  of 
Clinton,  her  Aunt  Deborah,  and  Rodger  Latimer.  She 
knew,  by  the  peculiar  rap,  who  it  was  that  stood  outside 
of  the  hall  door  waiting  to  enter,  and  as  her  eyes  moved 
from  the  ebony  settee  to  the  double  portiere,  which  opened 
at  her  bidding,  her  face  flushed  radiantly.  Rodger  Latimer 
stepped  quickly  to  her  side,  dropped  on  one  knee,  and 
put  his  arm  across  the  back  of  her  chair,  then  by  placing 
,the  other  hand  beneath  her  chin,  he  laid  her  head  upon 
his  arm  so  that  he  could  look  in  the  upturned  face. 

"A  curt  good-night  you  gave  me  last  evening,  Mar- 
gery; are  you  not  sorry  this  morning,  that  you  treated  me 
so  badly?"  he  asked. 

"  I  did  not  treat  you  badly,  but  very  nicely.  You  came 
to  see  papa,  and  I  was  very  courteous  to  his  guest." 

"To  see  papa!"  repeated  Mr.  Latimer;  "well,  I  came 
this  morning  to  see  you,  so  good-morning,  love."  Slowly 
and  tenderly  he  kissed  the  smiling  lips,  and  then  held  the 
sweet  head  close  to  his  breast  with  his  large  white  hand. 
The  girl's  heart  was  heavy  with  happiness,  -as  she  felt  the 
gentle  pressure  of  the  strong  arm  around  her  shoulders, 
and  the  touch  of  the  hand  upon  her  head.  The  August 
sunlight  came  through  the  vine  arches  of  the  south  piazza, 
and  rested  in  its  yellow  brightness  on  the  floor,  just  within 
the  open  door,  the  clock  ticked  on  the  mantel,  and  the  katy- 
dids sang  out  in  chorus  from  the  old  apple  trees,  while 
the  crickets  chirped  from  the  twilight  depths  below. 
After  a  little,  Mr.  Latimer's  fingers  commenced  playing 
with  the  curls  on  Margaret's  forehead,  then  she  turned  her 
26 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE  27 

head  back  against  his  arm,  and  said :  "  Nobody  is  allowed 
to  touch  my  front  hair." 

"  Is  that  so  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  continued  to  draw  the  soft 
hair  through  his  fingers,  and  rearrange  the  curls  over  the 
brow,  gazing  as  he  did  so  on  the  happy  girlish  face,  with 
an  earnestness  that  caused  the  eyelids  to  droop  with  a 
tremulous  motion.  Again  he  kissed  the  full  lips  as  tenderly 
as  a  mother  might  have  kissed  a  half-sleeping  child.  "I 
wonder  if  you  know  how  beautiful  you  are,  Margery,"  he 
asked,  "you  are  so  fairy-like,  and  ethereal  with  your 
changing  color,  and  great  blue  eyes,  that  are  twice  as 
large  as  usual  to-day;  no,  don't  shut  them  up,  let  me  look 
at  them,  if  you  will  not  look  at  me.  I  came  to  have  a 
good  long  talk  with  you,  but  there's  a  wonderful  heavenly 
air  about  you  this  morning,  that  makes  me  feel  as  though 
I  was  in  church,  kneeling  before  a  saint." 

"Nonsense,  Rodger,"  said  Margaret,  putting  his  hand 
aside,  as  she  arose,  and  drew  a  large  chair  close  to  the 
end  of  the  table,  "here  is  your  chair,  let  us  have  the  good 
long  talk  now,  which  you  may  begin  by  telling  me  every 
word  that  you  and  papa  said  to  each  other,  last  night." 

Mr.  Latimer  took  the  seat  designated,  and  proceeded 
very  deliberately  to  light  a  cigar,  and  then  he  smoked  in 
silence,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ceiling.  Margaret 
waited  for  him  to  speak. 

"  Tell  you  all  that  your  father  and  I  said  last  evening," 
he  repeated  after  a  while.  "  I  hardly  remember  all,  Mar- 
gery, but  I  can  tell  you  all  that  we  said  about  you,  or 
you  and  me,  which  was  very  little.  I  told  him  that  I  ex- 
pected to  have  an  income  two  years  from  now,  that  would 
warrant  our  being  married,  and  I  hoped  when  that  time 
came,  he  would  give  his  consent  to  the  marriage.  He 
seemed  startled,  absolutely  discomfited,  routed,  at  the 
thought  of  your  ever  leaving  him,  but  he  was  very  kind, 


28  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

and  I  think  would  consent  to  anything  that  did  not  take 
you  from  him." 

"Our  marriage  is  so  far  in  the  future,"  said  Margaret, 
"that  it  is  hardly  worth  while  making  him  unhappy 
about  it." 

"Oh,  I  told  him  at  last,  that  everything  should  be  as 
he  wished.  Perhaps,"  continued  Mr.  Latimer,  "  that  I  was 
mistaken,  but  I  thought  that  the  idea  of  being  separated 
from  you  distressed  him,  and  as  you  say,  there  is  no 
necessity  of  annoying  him  about  an  event  a  year  or  two 
distant.  I  was  more  than  ever  confirmed,  while  talking 
with  him  last  evening,  in  my  belief  of  the  great  influence 
surrounding  circumstances  have  in  the  development  of 
character.  What  a  man  is,  depends  after  all  on  where  he 
lives,  and  what  a  difference  there  is  in  places.  Edgewood 
is  a  sleepy  old  town,  compared  with  Cambridge,  but  your 
father  seems  to  think  that  a  life  here,  on  three  thousand 
dollars  a  year,  is  the  best  there  could  be  in  this  world." 

"He  finds  it  a  very  pleasant  life,"  said  Margaret. 

"Certainly,"  replied  Rodger,  "with  his  profession,  and 
at  his  age,  this  is  just  the  place  for  him,  but  a  young  man 
might  as  well  live  in  the  catacombs;  there  is  no  society 
here,  and  the  difficulty  of  getting  to  the  city  and  back, 
cuts  off  all  amusements." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Margaret,  "our  society  people 
frequently  go  down  to  the  opera  and  theaters." 

"Frequently!"  repeated  Mr.  Latimer  with  derision;  "a 
dozen  times  during  the  winter,  and  then  it's  a  break- 
neck race  for  them  to  come  home  to  dinner,  dress  and 
rush  back  to  the  depot,  and  half  of  the  time  they  have  to 
leave  in  the  middle  of  the  closing  act  to  catch  the 
last  train  home.  I'm  sick  of  depots  and  suburban 
trains,"  he  added,  looking  gloomily  on  the  floor.  After 
a  moment  he  raised  his  eyes  to  meet  Margaret's  fixed  on 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  29 

him  with  a  very  serious  look  in  them.  "Margery,  you 
think  me  selfish  and  discontented,  don't  you?"  he  asked 
with  a  smile. 

"Indeed-  I  do  not!"  she  replied  with  animation.  "I 
only  think  you  are  ambitious,  but  you  are  no  more 
ambitious  for  yourself  than  I  am  for  you." 

"Come  now,  what  would  you  like  to  have  me  do?" 

"Work  hard  in  your  profession,"  Margaret  replied, 
"and  make  the  leading  lawyer  in  Clinton;  to  be  always 
on  the  right  side  of  every  question,  to  have  men  and 
women  who  are  in  distress  feel  sure  that  they  can  count 
on  your  sympathy  and  assistance,  and  every  leader  of  a 
reformation  know  that  you,  and  your  eloquence,  and  repu- 
tation and  influence  will  be  on  his  side  to  help  him  to 
success." 

"Why,  Margery,  how  am  I  to  get  all  of  this  eloquence, 
.and  influence,  and  reputation,  to  help  all  of  these  dis- 
tressed men  and  women,  and  reformers?"  Mr.  Latimer 
asked,  as  he  leaned  forward  and  possessed  himself  of  the 
little  hand  that  lay  on  the  arm  of  the  wicker  chair.  "All 
such  anticipations  have  no  firmer  foundation  than  a  girl's 
love." 

"Yes  they  have,"  she  replied,  "you  possess  brains 
enough  to  make  all  such  anticipations  come  true,  and 
after  awhile,  Rodger,  before  you  are  an  old  man,  you 
will  be  one  of  the  great  men  of  the  country."  The 
eyes  of  the  enthusiastic  girl  filled  with  tears  as  she  con- 
tinued, "And  then  you  will  do  all  of  those  great  and  good 
things  that  we  talked  of  when  we  were  at  Lausanne." 
Mr.  Latimer  took  the  third  finger  of  the  little  hand  he 
held  and  kissed  the  ring  that  encircled  it,  which  he  had 
placed  there  a  year  before,  as  he  and  Margaret  were  sit- 
ting on  one  of  the  terraced  hillsides  of  Lausanne.  The 
college  vacations  of  the  two  previous  summers  had  been 


3o  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

passed  in  Europe  by  Margaret  and  Mr.  Latimer,  with 
Professor  McYey  and  Miss  Sargent,  a  lady  who  was  an 
old  friend  of  the  McYeys. 

"That  summer  seems  like  an  idyl,  Margery,  as  I  look 
back  on  it,"  said  Mr.  Latimer;  "what  a  different  world 
this  is  from  that  we  then  dreamed,  and  how  different  our 
life  must  be  from  what  we  then  planned,  or  rather  thought 
it  would  be,  for  very  few  plans  either  of  us  laid,  as  we 
floated  through  those  months  of  music  and  flowers,  of 
mountains  and  lakes,  of  moonlight  nights,  and  starry 
skies.  And  that  day  under  the  grape  vines!"  Mr.  Lat- 
imer placed  the  hand  he  held  against  his  cheek,  as  a  vague 
expression  of  retrospection  came  over  his  face,  and  he 
looked  out  of  the  west  window  at  the  white  clouds  lazily 
resting  above  the  apple  trees.  "What  a  lovely  time  it 
was.  I  wonder,"  he  added,  drawing  Margaret's  hand 
softly  down  his  cheek,  "if  it  will  ever  come  again." 

"Come  again!  "  exclaimed  Margaret,  "it  has  always 
been  with  me,  and  I  don't  know  Rodger,  what  you  mean 
when  you  say  this  is  such  a  different  world;  it  is  the 
same  world  to  me,  and  I  think  life  will  be  just  what 
I  then  thought  it  was  to  be." 

"  I  declare,  Margery,"  said  Mr.  Latimer,  "you  and 
your  father  are  a  pair  of  artless  children,  living  here  in 
this  nest  among  the  trees,  with  heaven  within  hands' 
reach:  you  darling,  you  don't  know  anything  more  of 
life,  than  a  dove  in  the  twilight. " 

"Why,  Rodger,  I'm  not  such  a  child,  nor  have  I  lived 
in  a  box.  I've  seen  something  of  the  world." 

"Yes, "he  replied,  "quite  a  number  of  its  square 
miles,  but  how  much  of  life?  You  have  had,  say,  six 
months  in  Europe,  closely  surrounded  by  Miss  Sargent, 
your  father  and  myself,  then  a  dozen  dinners,  and  as  many 
operas  and  theaters  in  Clinton,  always  attended,  either 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  3! 

by  Miss  Sargent  or  me;  most  of  your  life  has  been  passed 
here  with  the  poets  and  philosophers,  among  these  vines 
and  trees.  And  as  for  your  father,  he  knows  ten  times 
as  much  about  the  ancients  as  the  moderns;  when  he 
speaks  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  he  speaks  of  them 
as  thAugh  they  were  living  men,  and  of  those  old  times 
as  though  they  were  of  paramount  living  interest  to-day, 
but  the  moment  you  commence  to  talk  with  him  of  the 
people,  or  the  issues  of  the  present,  he  is  as  vague  and 
impracticable  as  a  child.  Why  Margery,  he  knows  no 
more  of  the  ambitions  and  needs  of  the  young  men  of 
the  present-day  than  did  old  Diogenes  himself."  Mr. 
Latimer  left  his  chair,  and  walked  back  and  forth  across 
the  room,  with  an  expression  of  moody  discontent  on  his 
face;  he  stopped  before  one  of  the  open  windows,  but  saw 
neither  the  red  and  yellow  apples  hanging  among  the 
green  leaves,  nor  felt  the  influence  of  the  dusky  silence 
below  the  trees. 

Margaret  observed  him  intently  for  a  few  moments, 
then  asked,  "  On  what  points  do  you  and  papa  differ  so 
much?" 

"On  all  practical  ones;  he  thinks  a  life  in  Edgewood 
desirable,  I  think  it  insufferable,  not  worth  having.  One 
gets  a  very  different  view  of  life,  from  the  Boston  out- 
look, than  from  this  monastic  loophole." 

"Which  is  the  truer?"    asked  Margaret. 

"Both  are  true,  I  suppose;  but  if  you  wish  to  ask, 
which  is  the  most  desirable,  there  is  no  comparison. 
Live  in  such  a  town  as  this,  with  these  saints  and  an- 
cients, on  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  a  year!"  Mr. 
Latimer's  nostrils  fairly  distended  with  scorn.  He  went 
back  to  his  chair  and  reseated  himself.  "  You  may  think 
me  unreasonable,  Margery,  but  nothing  short  of  fifteen 
thousand  dollars  a  year,  and  a  first  class  social  and 
professional  position  in  Clinton  will  satisfy  me!" 


3- 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


"  Will  that  satisfy  you?" 

"  As  near  as  anything  can  satisfy  a  mortal.  I  know, 
your  philosophers  say  that  no  one  is  satisfied  in  this  world, 
but  this  is  all  the  world  I  know  anything  of,  and  as 
Emerson  says,  one  world  at  a  time."  He  smiled  good- 
naturedly,  as  Margaret  laughed  aloud. 

"  I  doubt  if  Emerson  made  the  same  application  of 
that  thought,  as  you  did  just  now,"  she  said. 

"Well  Margery,  Grey  Whitridge  seems  satisfied  with 
the  life  his  ten  thousand  a  year  enables  him  to  lead.  I 
dined  with  him  last  summer  at  the  Dorchester  Club,  the 
day  before  he  sailed,  and  I  didn't  see  any  .evidence  of 
discontent,  or  unhappiriess  in  him,  nor  in  Walt  Rich- 
mond, or  young  Barstow,  who  dined  with  us;  they  were 
about  as  gay  a  set  of  fellows  as  one  would  care  to 
meet,  not  any  more  satisfied  though  than  some  of  the 
Harvard  men,  with  their  horses  and  yachts.  There  is 
no  use  of  denying  it  Margery,  this  life  is  not  worth 
much  without  money." 

"I've  never  met  Mr.  Barstow,"  said  Margaret,  "and  I 
have  seen  but  little  of  Mr.  Richmond,  but  I  don't  think 
the  Richmonds  a  happy  family.  Ethel  is  absolutely  blase 
at  nineteen.  I  called  to  see  her  regarding  the  flower 
mission  one  morning  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  she  was  not 
out  of  bed.  I  don't  see  much  use  of  her  ever  getting  up, 
she  goes  through  everything  in  such  a  listless  way,  as 
though  nothing  paid,  and  Mrs.  Richmond  is  always  fret- 
ting about  something,  either  the  cook  is  in  fault,  or  the 
coachman  is  drunk,  or  her  last  dress  is  a  failure.  I  spent 
a  day  there  last  winter,  and  I  was  glad  to  get  away  from 
both,  the  half-dead  daughter  and  the  complaining  mother. 
What's  the  use  of  all  their  money,  if  it  don't  bring  them 
happiness?  as  to  Grey  Whitridge,  I  have  seen  him  only 
twice,  and  both  times  at  the  Assembly.  He  certainly  has 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


33 


a  fine  figure,  but  I  can't  understand  why  he  is  called  so 
handsome.  His  finely  shaped  head,  and  clear-cut  features, 
seem  to  me  physical  accidents,  inherited  lines,  without 
any  individual  character  back  of  them;  he  strikes  me  as 
a  man  who  would  have  no  higher  thought  than  well  fitting 
clothes,  and  well  served  dinners.  But,  Rodger,  you  are 
more  of  a  man  than  Grey  Whitridge,  and  I  know  that  such 
a  life  as  he  leads  would  never  satisfy  you,  for  any  length 
of  time  at  least." 

"  I  d*on't  know  about  that,"  said  Mr.  Latimer.  "  I  think 
his  life  ought  to  satisfy  any  one;  there  is  not  a  more  pop- 
ular man  in  Clinton,  he  is  considered  the  greatest  matri- 
monial prize  in  the  city.  Everybody  is  delighted  with 
an  invitation  to  his  theater  parties,  and  I  don't  know  a 
man  anywhere  who  is  a  better  judge  of  a  dinner;  he's  a 
fine  horseman,  and  a  good  shot  they  say,  and  with  all,  a 
downright  good  natured,  affable  fellow;  I  would  like 
such  a  position  in  Clinton  society  as  he  has." 

"And  can't  you  have  it?"  asked  Margaret. 

"Have  it!"  repeated  Mr.  Latimer,  "with  my  empty 
purse!  He  asked  me  last  spring  if  I  would  not  like  to 
have  him  propose  my  name  for  membership  in  the  Dor- 
chester Club;  he  would  be  amazed  should  I  tell  him  that 
every  dollar  I  possessed,  for  a  twelvemonths'  board  and 
clothes,  was  fifteen  hundred.  I  might  go  in  society  as  a 
sort  of  available  young  man,  a  convenient  dancing  part- 
ner, when  one  was  needed,  a  good  fellow  enough  among 
men,  to  be  invited  to  dinner  at  the  club,  with  the  sons  of 
society  families,  but  not  a  man  to  be  invited  to  the 
wealthy  homes,  and  be  presented  to  the  daughters  of  the 
house."  Mr.  Latimer  was  walking  the  floor  again.  "  No, 
Margery,  a  young  man  without  money,  or  expectations, 
cannot  have  a  desirable  social  position;  I  have  seen  that 
demonstrated  over  and  over  in  Clinton,  and  in  Boston, 

3  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake. 


34 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


and  a  man  of  any  self  respect, will  not  accept  one  of  those 
tolerated-for-convenience-sake  positions,  that  some  brain- 
less fellows  hold.  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  dance  atten- 
dance on  some  rich  matron,  so  I  shall  stay  out  of  society 
entirely,  until  I  can  make  an  income  sufficient  to  take  me 
there,  on  the  top  of  the  wave.  It  is  a  dismal  prospect, 
but  I  shall  have  to  submit." 

Margaret  sat  silent;  she  could  not  understand  how  life 
could  open  out  before  such  a  man  as  Rodger  Latimer,  in 
any  other  way  than  as  a  boundless  arena  of  mental  activity 
and  delight.  She  was  not  old  enough  to  correctly  value 
the  youth,  health,  superior  natural  ability  and  thorough 
educational  discipline  that  Mr.  Latimer  possessed,  so  she 
did  not  place  these  advantages  in  one  scale,  and  toss  into 
the  other  the  dinners,  dogs  and  horses  of  which  he  had 
been  speaking;  and  accurately  weigh  one  against  the 
other,  but  she  had  a  vague  idea  that  he  was  wrong  in  his 
comparative  estimates.  She  regarded  him  closely  as  he 
walked  back  and  forth,  his  clear  gray  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
floor,  his  head  bent  slightly  forward,  and  his  hands  crossed 
behind  his  back. 

"It  must  be,  Rodger,"  she  said  after  a  little,  "that  as 
you  say,  there  is  a  difference  in  places,  and  the  thoughts 
they  suggest,  and  the  tastes  they  cultivate.  I  can't  for 
my  life,  see  anything  so  very  desirable  in  the  society 
which  you  admire;  perhaps  I'm  not  adapted  to  it,and  I'm 
sure  that  I  do  not  like  it.  I've  seen  very  little  of  it  I 
know,  but  I've  seen  enough  to  know  that  it  would  never 
satisfy  me.  I  do  not  enjoy  the  dinners  of  which  you 
speak  so  highly;  there  are  twenty  different  dishes  served, 
and, if  I  only  taste  of  each  I'm  made  physically  uncom- 
fortable, and  then  what  a  babel  of  talk  on  uninteresting 
subjects!  I  get  nothing  out  of  it  but  weariness.  The 
theater  and  opera  give  me  much  more  pleasure,  when  I 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


35 


can  go  quietly  with  you  or  Aunt  Helen.  I  don't  like  the 
theater  parties  which  you  seem  to.  I  was  invited  by  Mrs. 
White,  to  hear  Irving,and  she  had  a  party  of  six  or  eight, 
and  what  a  jumble  the  evening  was  of  Irving  and  Terry, 
Assembly  dances  and  Hamlet,  receptions  and  Ophelia;  I 
did  not  enjoy  it  at  all.  How  much  better  to  go  and  listen 
to  an  artist  in  a  quiet  way." 

"Then  you  would  think  it  better  for  me, "  said  Mr. 
Latimer  stopping  in  his  walk  near  Margaret,  "  to  sit  alone 
this  winter,  if  I  go  to  the  theater  at  all,  in  the  parquet 
and  study  Hamlet?  I  think  it  would  be  much  pleasanter 
to  sit  in  Mrs.  White's  box,  with  her  sister,  Miss  Edwards, 
or  with  Ethel  Richmond  and  Grey  Whitridge,  and  after 
the  play  go  to  the  Bellevue  for  a  nice  little  supper." 

"Then  why  don't  you  do  it?" 

"  Simply  because  I  have  not  the  money ;  how  could  I 
give  a  theater  party,  at  an  expense  of  a  hundred,  or  a 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars?  None  but  society  men,  of  an 
assured  social  position,  are  invited  to  such  places." 

"  And  that  assured  social  position  depends  upon 
wealth  ?" 

"Almost  entirely,"  replied  Mr.  Latimer,  "as  he  com- 
menced to  walk  the  floor  again.  "You  may  call  it  un- 
manly if  you  choose,  Margery,  but  I  absolutely  dread, 
with  a  smarting,  shrinking  dread,  the  next  two  years  in 
Clinton.  I  have  seen  enough  to  know  how  it  will  be.  At 
Harvard  my  position  among  the  students  was  a  pleasant 
one;  Uncle  Gill  allowed  me  plenty  of  money,  and  I  was 
known,  by  the  Boston  men  at  least,  as  the  nephew  of 
Gilbert  Latimer,  who  is  regarded  as  a  very  wealthy  man 
in  Boston;  no  one  thought  anything  about  my  personal 
wealth  or  poverty ;  my  cigars  were  always  of  the  best,  and 
I  always  had  an  abundance  of  money,  so  it  was  taken  for 
granted,  if  thought  of  at  all,  that  I  could  command  what- 


36  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

ever  I  chose.  But  it  is  different  in  Clinton.  I  have  felt 
the  difference,  even  in  the  little  that  I  have  dropped  into 
Clinton  society,  in  the  last  two  years,  and  now  I  have  to 
squarely  face  the  thing.  You  may  wonder  why  I  do  not 
go  to  Boston,  or  New  York,  but  Uncle  Gill  advised  me  to 
stay  out  of  Boston,  and  he  gave  me  distinctly  to  under- 
stand that  I  was  henceforth  to  depend  upon  myself,  and 
as  to  New  York,  it  was  the  judgment  of  several  friends 
of  mine — young  lawyers  —  and  also  of  Judge  Sargent, 
that  on  the  whole,  Clinton  offered  stronger  inducements 
to  a  young  man,  than  any  other  city.  I  had  thought  of 
Omaha,  but  Judge  Sargent  advised  against  that.  I've 
tried,  Margery,  to  settle  the  question  with  careful  consid- 
eration, and  I  hope  that  I've  made  no  mistake.  I'm  not 
afraid  of  work;  I  think  I  shall  enjoy  it.  As  a  matter  of 
course,  the  first  year  or  two  of  waiting  for  business,  will 
be  trying,  but  every  year  it  will  grow  better.  Judge 
Sargent  told  me  yesterday,  that  he  could  throw  some  bus- 
iness in  my  hands,  and  I  feel  sure  that  I  shall  succeed  in 
the  end,  both  in  making  money  and  in  gaining  a  profes- 
sional position.  I  wouldn't  mind,  if  I  could  work  under 
desirable  social  conditions,  but  I  don't  like  to  think  of 
the  close  economy  of  living  on  fifteen  hundred  dollars  a 
year,  when  most  of  the  young  men  whom  I  now  meet  in 
Clinton,  spend  from  four  to  ten  thousand  a  year,  and 
some  of  them  have  neither  brains  nor  culture.  If  it  were 
not  for  their  money,  they  would  be  dropped  out  of  society 
in  twenty-four  hours,  and  its  doors  would  be  barred 
against  them.  Think  of  the  difference!  they  with  their 
clubs,  opera  boxes,  horses  for  driving  and  riding,  invited 
everywhere,  frequently  two  and  three  invitations  for  an 
evening;  and  I  in  a  second  class  boarding  house,  a  penni- 
less attorney!" 

"  Rodger,  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  what  you  say,"  said 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


37 


Margaret,  as  she  crossed  her  arms  on  the  corner  of  the 
table,  and  looked  up  in  his  face,  as  he  halted  in  his  walk 
beside  her;  "  it  cannot  be  otherwise,  than  -that  a  man  of 
your  intellect, fine  personal  appearance,  and  conversational 
ability,  will  be  popular,  and  have  a  splendid  time  in  any 
city.  It's  natural  that  it  should  be  so,  it's  according  to 
law,  as  papa  says,  it's  the  effect  of  a  cause." 

"You're  too  ignorant  of  the  laws  of  society,"  said  Mr. 
Latimer,  "and  of  its  underlying  causes,  to  know  any- 
thing of  the  relative  effects  of  money,  or  no  money." 

"Well  Rodger,  if  what  you  say  is  true,  I'm  glad  that  I 
do  live  among  the  trees,  with  poets  and  philosophers, 
where  worth  holds  its  true  position,  and  is  not  beaten 
down  by  advantages  that  are  impersonal,  and  often  acci- 
dental. I  am  glad  that  I  haven't  lost  my  faith  in  what  is 
ri  ght." 

"But  Margery,"  interrupted  Mr.  Latimer,  "all  of  this 
may  be  right,  even  as  you  use  the  word;  money  has  its 
rights,  society  customs  have  their  rights." 

"There's  something  wrong  somewhere,"  she  replied, 
"  when  the  advantages  of  society  are  withheld  from  such 
a  man  as  you,  simply  because  he  has  a  small  income,  and 
are  given  to  another  man  who  is  inferior  in  every  way, 
excepting  that  he  has  money.  If  these  things  of  which 
you  speak  are  really  advantageous  additions  to  one's  hap- 
piness and  development,  it's  your  right  to  have  them,  and 
somewhere  there  is  a  great  wrong  in  their  being  withheld 
from  you.  I  don't  see  the  matter  very  clearly,  but  I  have 
faith  in  the  right,  and  in  the  end  it  will  assert  itself,  and 
we  shall  see  it,  and  acknowledge  it.  Wait  a  few  years, 
you  and  Grey  Whitridge  are  both  young  men,  you  say  he 
lives  a  life  of  self-indulgent  pleasure;  if  you  live  a  life  of 
intellectual  activity,  and  are  true  to  moral  principle,  and 
are  not  the  happiest  man  in  the  end,  what  becomes  of 


38  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

Plato's  and  Montaigne's  maxims  and  philosophy?  and  the 
Bible?  and  of  God's  justice,  Rodger?  You  used  to  have 
faith  in  all  of  these;  where  has  it  gone?" 

"  Just  where  Plato's  might  have  gone,  perhaps,  in  his 
lifetime,  hadn't  he  enjoyed  all  of  the  advantages  of 
wealth.  I  tell  you  Margery,  much  of  this  religion  and 
philosophy,  learned  at  home  and  in  Sunday  Schools,  goes 
like  dew,  when  we  get  out  in  the  hot  world,  and  see  what 
God  does,  or  at  least  permits  to  be  done.  There  is  noth- 
ing like  being  knocked  down  by  daily  facts,  to  take  this 
nonsense  of  religion  and  philosophy  out  of  one." 

The  smile  died  out  of  Margaret's  face.  "  You  ought  not 
to  talk  so  Rodger,"  she  said;  "you  don't  believe  what 
you  say,  you  know  you  don't." 

Before  Mr.  Latimer  could  reply,  there  was  a  light  rap 
at  the  door,  and  Margaret's  Aunt  Deborah  entered  and 
handed  her  a  telegram.  Mn  Latimer  noticed  the  sudden 
look  of  alarm  with  which  she  opened  it. 

"  Is  your  father  away,  Margery  ?"  he  asked.  She  fin- 
ished reading  the  dispatch  before  replying. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  he  went  to  the  city  on  the  ten-thirty 
train,  to  take  the  library  catalogue  to  Morrison's,  and  was 
to  take  luncheon  with  Aunt  Helen,  and  return  this  after- 
noon; this  is  from  Aunt  Helen;  she  says  that  papa  will 
remain  there  over  night.  Doctor  Brandon,  of  Rutgers 
College,  is  to  dine  with  her,  and  she  wishes  papa  to  meet 
him.  Papa  must  have  gone  to  see  her  before  going  to 
Morrison's,  or  this  couldn't  have  reached  us  so  soon." 

Suddenly  Margaret  sprang  up,  and  clapping  her  hands, 
commenced  to  dance  around  the  room.  "  Now  Rodger, 
let  us  have  a  day  in  the  woods!  Auntie  will  put  us  up  a 
luncheon,  wont  you,  Aunt  Deb  ?  And  we  wont  come  home 
until  dinner,"  sang  Margaret  to  the  rollicking  air,  "We 
won't  go  home  till  morning,"  which  she  had  frequently 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


39 


heard  at  night  from  the  students,  as  they  went  through  the 
town  in  their  noisy  bouts.  She  caught  Mr.  Latimer  by 
the  arm,  and  whirled  him  down  the  room  in  rapid  circles, 
as  she  whistled  a  waltz  from  Nanon.  At  last  she  stopped 
in  front  of  quiet  Aunt  Deborah. 

"  Shall  we  go,  Rodger?"  she  asked,  catching  her  breath. 

"Certainly  we  will.  A-luncheon  in  the  woods  will  be 
worth  more  than  all  of  the  philosophy  of  your  old  Plato. 
But  Margery,"  he  continued,  leading  her  to  the  center 
table,  "where  did  you  get  this  beautiful  copy  of  Mon- 
taigne?" and  he  laid  his  hand  on  an  English  edition  soft 
as  satin,  and  beautiful  to  look  upon. 

"I  found  it  at  Morrison's." 

"Rather  solid  reading  for  a  girl,  but  not  as  bad  as 
this,"  he  pursued,  taking  up  a  volume  of  Mill. 

"Why  do  you  say  bad?  you  wouldn't  if  you  knew  how 
much  good  Mill  has  done  me,  how  he  has  helped  me  to 
think  for  myself." 

"Think  for  yourself!  good  Jove!  what's  coming  next!" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Margaret  seriously,  "and  how  that 
thinking  has  steadied  me." 

"  Why  Margery,  this  is  metaphysics,  and  reading  met- 
aphysics will  spoil  you,  will  make  you  strong  minded." 
He  pronounced  the  last  words  with  a  wry  face.  The  vol- 
ume of  Mill  that  he  held  in  his  hand  as  he  was  talking, 
opened  of  itself,  where  Margaret  had  slipped  between  the 
leaves,  a  mother  of  pearl  paper  knife  to  keep  her  place; 
it  was  a  beautiful  paper  cutter,  with  lovely  chameleon 
hues  of  pearly  white,  azure  and  purple;  dainty  and  fem- 
inine. As  his  eyes  rested  on  the  paper  knife,  Margaret 
placed  over  the  volume  of  Mill,  Blackmore's  Lorna  Doone. 

"This  is  not  metaphysics,  Rodger;  have  you  read  Lorna 
Doone?"  she  asked. 

"  No." 


4o  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"Well,  you  must,  it's  a  perfect  love  story,  and  the  des- 
criptions of  scenery  are  so  simple  and  natural,  and  yet  so 
original,  their  quiet  beauty  is  wonderful;  we'll  take  it 
with  us,  I'll  read  you  some  of  the  descriptions.  But  you 
must  read  it  yourself,  every  word  of  it,  it's  all  so  delight- 
ful, nothing  commonplace  in  it." 

The  girl's  hand  was  resting  on  Mr.  Latimer's  arm,  he 
glanced  from  the  beautiful  volume  of  Montaigne  to  the 
delicate  paper-knife,  then  his  eyes  rested  on  the  enthus- 
iastic face  at  his  shoulder. 

"What  a  strange  compound  you  are,  Margery,  of  child 
and  woman,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand  in  his  own,  "dainty 
bindings,  and  dainty  paper  cutter,  and  enthusiasm  over 
Lorna's  love — read  your  metaphysics,  if  you  like,,  or  any- 
thing else,  nothing  could  spoil  you,  you  little  impulsive 
woman,  nothing  in  the  universe.  Now  for  the  woods  and 
luncheon,"  he  cried,  as  he  gave  the  hand  a  little  squeeze, 
"only  you  will  have  to  drive  round  by  Rowland's,  so  I 
can  get  some  cigars." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

As  soon  as  Margaret's  phaeton  drove  away  from  the 
house,  Aunt  Deborah  closed  the  piazza  door  in  Mar- 
garet's room,  to  keep  out  the  bugs  and  flies,  and  lowered 
the  window  shades,  to  prevent  the  sun  from  fading  the 
rugs.  Faithful  Deborah  Bond!  a  woman  who  never 
thought  of  a  mission,  or  a  sphere,  in  connection  with  her- 
self, but  who,  as  a  child,  on  the  twenty-five  acre  farm  that 
lay  close  to  a  New  England  village,  was  the  one  of  all 
the  children  to  be  trusted  with  the  baby,  to  whom,  when 
a  child,  a  half  holiday  meant  more  time  to  help  around 
the  house,  and  mend  the  baby's  clothes;  who  as  a  young 
woman,  never  thought  of  lover  or  husband  for  herself, 
who  never  was  even  a  bridesmaid;  but  whose  pride  and 
love  centered  in  her  pretty  sister  Millicent.  This  woman 
thought  it  a  providential  call  when  she  received  a  letter 
one  day,  that  the  pretty  sister,  whose  health  had  failed 
after  years  of  wifehood,  needed  her  in  her  Western  home. 
She  responded  to  the  call,  and  took  upon  herself  the  duties 
of  nurse  and  housekeeper,  in  Professor  McVey's  house  in 
Edgewood.  When  the  gentle  Millicent  died  one  evening, 
it  was  Aunt  Deborah  who  folded  the  hands  of  the  dead 
wife  and  mother,  soothed  the  weeping  daughter  to  sleep, 
staid  up  all  night  with  the  bereaved  husband,  sitting 
beside  him  in  sympathetic  silence,  placing  a  cup  of  tea  in 
his  hand  as  the  night  waned,  and  at  last  persuading  him 
to  lie  down  on  the  lounge,  where  he  soon  dropped  off  in 
a  sleep  of  exhaustion.  Duty  done  to  the  dead  and  the 
living,  she  leaned  her  head  against  the  straight,  high 
back  of  the  rocking  chair  she  was  sitting  in,  and  in  thirty 
seconds  was  sound  asleep.  No  one  seemed  to  think  of  it, 


42  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

but  ever  after  that  evening,  it  was  Deborah's  hand  that 
oiled  the  machinery  of  Professor  Me Vey'screakless  house- 
hold. Happy  woman!  with  no  yearnings,  no  question- 
ings, no  ambitions,  no  insomnia,  no  indigestion.  In  her 
housekeeping,  the  dinners  were  never  late,  the  buttons 
never  off,  the  coffee  never  muddy;  the  curtains  were 
always  white,  but  no  one  knew  when  they  were  washed ; 
the  house  always  clean,  but  no  one  ever  saw  a  broom  or  a 
duster;  the  larder  always  answered  any  emergency  of 
extra  luncheon,  or  a  double  number  for  dinner;  there  were 
no  flies  in  the  house,  and  rarely  a  mosquito  on  the  piazza. 
Yet  Deborah  Bond  never  seemed  to  have  anything  to  do, 
or  looked  as  though  she  had  anything  on  her  mind.  Her 
creed  she  never  thought  of,  the  Westminster  Assembly 
settled  that  in  1645;  her  philosophy  could  be  condensed 
in  the  one  sentence,  "  Take  things  as  you  find  them,  and 
make  the  best  of  them."  Out  of  this  philosophy  there 
came  to  her  a  life  as  regular  as  the  tides,  and  as  satis- 
fying as  the  seasons.  Happy  woman !  who  worked  to  sure 
issues,  and  rejoiced  in  the  work  of  her  hands.  Professor 
McVey  did  not  know  how  much  of  daily  comfort  he  owed 
to  the  quiet  woman  whom  he  instinctively  treated  with  a 
respectful  reserve,  but  Margaret  did  know  that  "  Aunt 
Deb  was  the  best  woman  in  the  world,"  and  was  always 
just  at  hand  if  she  wished  for  anything,  and  never  annoyed 
her  with  questions  or  advice.  She  loved  her  aunt  in 
exactly  the  way  such  a  woman  would  choose  to  be  loved, 
with  a  calm,  undemonstrative  affection  that  never  startled 
or  embarrassed  her. 

Mr.  Latimer  and  Margaret  were  as  happy  as  the  day, 
as  they  drove  toward  the  woods.  The  weather  vanes  of 
the  town  pointed  to  the  north,  but  no  breeze  was  felt,  not 
a  leaf  stirred,  the  grass  was  fresh  arid  green  from  late 
rains,  and  the  air  was  clear  and  co<3l.  The  sky  was  blue 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


43 


as  June,  and  the  white  clouds,  in  long  sweeps  of  thin,  torn 
mist  with  irregular  edges,  rested  motionless  across  the 
blue.  Margaret  drove  toward  a  little  spring  that  she 
knew  well,  in  a  wood,  and  there  they  unpacked  their 
luncheon  basket,  chattering  merrily  all  of  the  time. 
Margaret  laughed  at  Mr.  Latimer  because  he  was  so 
clumsy  in  breaking  the  ice  into  small  pieces  for  the  cold 
tea,  and  Mr.  Latimer  laughed  at  Margaret  because  there 
was  no  knife  in  the  basket  with  which  to  cut  the  chicken 
and  cake,  and  declared  that  he  would  have  to.  do  the 
housekeeping  when  they  were  married.  "All  Mill's 
fault,"  he  said  with  a  sly  glance,  as  he  produced  a  good 
sized  pocket  knife  and  proceeded  to  disjoint  the  roasted 
chicken.  They  wakened  the  birds  that  had  been  hushed 
into  a  noonday  sleep  by  the  profound  stillness  of  the 
forest,  and  the  twittering  birds  aroused  the  crickets,  that 
commenced  chirping  in  all  directions.  Luncheon  over, 
Mr.  Latimer  said: 

"Let  the  things  be  Margery;  we'll  pack  them  after 
awhile.  I  want  to  smoke  now,  and  you  read  to  me  from  that 
enchanting  Lorna  Doone  of  yours."  After  giving  her  the 
book,  he  threw  the  laprobe  on  the  ground  and  placed  a 
carriage  cushion  on  it  for  a  pillow,  then  he  stretched  him- 
self out  close  by  her  side,  as  she  sat  on  the  grass  leaning 
against  a  tree,  turning  his  head  so  that  he  could  see  the 
fair  face  with  the  long  lashes,  and  the  sweet  curves  of  the 
moving  lips.  He  cared  little  for  Lorna  Doone,  or  the 
outlaws;  Margaret's  face  filled  his  eye,  and  thought  of  her 
his  mind,  even  as  his  ear  was  filled  with  the  musical  low 
tones  of  her  voice,  that  were  very  restful  and  soothing. 
Margaret  read  on,  absorbed  in  the  book,  until  suddenly, 
startled  by  a  heavy  breathing,  she  looked  round  to  see 
Mr.  Latimer  fast  asleep,  with  hands  clasped  over  his 
breast,  and  his  head  leaning  a  little  one  side  toward  her. 


44 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


She  scarcely  breathed  for  fear  she  might  awaken  him;  she 
hail  never  seen  him  asleep  before,  and  she  gazed  on  him 
with  shy  curiosity.  He  might  waken  up  any  minute  and 
catch  her  looking  at  him  so  earnestly,  she  thought,  but 
no,  he  slept  soundly  on :  how  handsome  he  looked,  but 
how  funny  it  was  to  hear  him  breathe  so  heavily,  then  she 
wondered  if  that  was  what  they  called  snoring.  Now  she 
could  look  at  him  as  much  as  she  chose,  and  he  not  know 
it.  How  still  he  lay,  and  how  white  and  large  his  hands 
were,  and  what  beautiful  pink  nails,  almost  as  pink  as 
her  own.  Then  she  looked  at  her  nails  and  very  slowly 
put  out  one  hand;  glancing  up  at  his  face  to  see  that  he 
was  not  waking  up,  she  leaned  over,  stretched  out  one 
finger  and  placing  the  nail  as  close  to  one  of  his  as  she 
could  without  touching  his  finger,  she  compared  the  nails 
in  solemn  silence  for  a  moment,  then  folded  her  hands  in 
her  lap  and  continued  gazing  at  him.  How  broad  the 
chest  was  that  supported  the  white  hands.  Aunt  Deb  said 
her  father  had  a  narrow  chest  that  indicated  consumption, 
in  some  branch  of  the  McVey  family.  The  Latimers  must, 
have  been  strong  for  generations  to  have  produced  such  a 
chest  as  that,  and  how  tanned  his  throat  and  face  were, 
all  but  his  forehead,  and  what  a  pretty  dimple  that  was  in 
his  chin,  she  would  like  to  lay  the  tip  of  her  little  finger 
in  it;  such  a  little  cleft  in  such  a  large  chin;  then  how 
regularly  his  lips  moved,  and  with  every  breath  came  that 
pull  that  made  the  sound  of  heavy  breathing.  For  an  in- 
stant she  thought  that  she  would  like  to  kiss  him,  then  her 
face  blushed  rosy  all  over  at  the  thought;  no!  she  would 
not  touch  him  for  the  world!  But  she  never  moved  her 
eyes  from  his  face,  she  looked  at  his  dark  moustache,  and 
then  to  his  hair,  so  soft  and  silky,  and  she  raised  her  hand 
and  drew  one  of  the  rings  of  hair  over  her  forehead  out 
between  her  fingers.  "  It  looks  soft  as  mine, "  she  thought, 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


45 


and  how  straight  the  parting  was,  exactly  in  the  middle, 
and  not  a  single  hair  across  it;  the  hair  seemed  to  grow 
lower  in  the  middle  than  on  the  sides,  just  as  it  did  on 
Byron's  head,  and  how  the  short  hair  clung  to  the  soft 
white  skin,  and  how  much  larger  and  heavier  his  head 
looked,  lying  there,  than  when  he  was  sitting  up.  She 
wondered  if  a  barber  parted  his  hair,  or  if  Rodger  did  it 
himself;  whether  he  took  care  of  his  own  nails,  or  had  a 
manicure  to  do  it.  At  this  point  of  her  observations  and 
wonderings,  a  fly  lit  on  Mr.  Latimer's  face  and  Margaret 
brushed  it  away  with  her  handkerchief.  At  last  she 
seemed  satisfied  with  gazvng,  and  noiselessly  turned  the 
leaves  of  her  book  as  she  read  to  herself;  every  few 
seconds  looking  up  and  waving  her  handkerchief  over 
Mr.  Latimer's  head  to  keep  the  flies  away.  The  birds 
became  quiet,  the  crickets  droned  in  a  dreamy  way,  and 
stillness  reigned  in  the  forest.  An  hour  passed,  and  then 
as  Margaret  glanced  from  her  book  to  wave  her  handker- 
chief over  Mr.  Latimer's  head,  she  met  his  wide  open  eyes 
fixed  on  her  face ,  but  as  she  looked,  the  lids  slowly  dropped 
over  his  eyes  again,  and  she  turned  to  her  book,  but  when 
in  a  few  minutes  she  raised  her  head  to  wave  her  hand- 
kerchief, the  eyes  were  open,  and  with  more  expression  in 
them.  Soon  Mr.  Latimer  turned  over  on  his •  side  and 
leaning  on  his  elbow,  rested  his  head  upon  his  hand,  then 
after  a  little  he  sat  up  and  clasped  his  hands  around  his 
knees.  Margaret  did  not  speak,  but  continued  her  read- 
ing. Mr.  Latimer  looked  at  the  dishes  and  the  remains 
of  the  luncheon  strewed  on  the  grass,  looked  off  through 
the  woods,  and  then  fixed  his  eyes  upon  Margaret. 

"  Well,  Margery,  have  you  had  a  good  time?"  he  quietly 
asked. 

"Yes,  a  lovely  time,"  she  smilingly  replied. 

"I  must  have  been  sound   asleep,  my  cigar  has  gone 


46  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

out,"  he  said,  as  he  reached  for  his  cigar  that  he  had  laid 
on  the  grass  when  he  felt  himself  growing  sleepy;  he 
brushed  the  ashes  off  it  and  tossed  it  away  from  him. 

"Sound  asleep!  I  should  think  you  had.  Why,  Rodger, 
you  slept  over  an  hour." 

"O  no,  that  can't  be,"  he  replied,  taking  out  his 
watch  and  looking  at  it.  "Caesar's  ghost!  it's  half-past 
four!  Now  that  was  not  treating  you  well,  Margery.  I 
don't  see  how  I  slept  so  long,  or  went  to  sleep  at  all  for 
that  matter,  but  you  have  a  nap  now,"  he  continued  with 
a  smile,  "and  I'll  keep  the  flies  off  you." 

"No,  thank  you,  I'm  not  sleepy.  I  never  sleep  in  the 
daytime." 

"Nor  do  I." 

"Unless  you're  in  the  woods  being  read  to."- 

"It  was  that  stupid  book  of  yours,  Margery,  that  did 
it." 

"The  next  time  I'll  bring  Mill,"  rejoined  Margaret, 
saucily.  Mr.  Latimer  reached  out  his  hand  and  gave  her 
ear  a  little  pinch.  "  But  come,  Rodger,  you  said  you  would 
have  to  do  the  housekeeping,  so  please  pack  the  basket. " 

"No,  I'm  not  to  do  the  housekeeping  yet.  I  went  to 
sleep,  and  that  was  doing  my  share  for  the  day.  If  you'll 
pack  the  basket,  I'll  cut  all  of  the  goldenrod  that  I  can 
carry  in  my  arms  for  you. " 

The  basket  was  packed,  and  they  wandered  off  in  a 
ravine,  and  through  lowland  woods  for  flowers.  At  seven 
o'clock  they  reached  home  with  a  carriage  load  of  golden- 
rod,  blue  gentian  and  cat-tails,  ready  for  one  of  Aunt 
Deborah's  beautiful  dinners. 

"Where  shall  we  sit,  Rodger?"  asked  Margaret,  as  they 
rose  from  the  table,  "in  my  room,  or  on  the  piazza?" 

"On  the  front  piazza  in  the  moonlight,  unless  you  care 
to  be  within  doors,"  replied  Mr,  Latimer. 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


47 


They  went  to  the  piazza,  and  Margaret  located  herself 
in  the  hammock,  leaning  her  head  and  shoulders  back 
against  a  cushion,  and  restjng  her  feet  on  a  large  velvet 
mat  that  partially  covered  the  floor.  Mr.  Latimer  drew 
the  sea-chair  to  her  side  and  seated  himself  in  it,  and 
after  striking  a  match  on  the  railing  near  by,  lit  a  cigar, 
then  placed  his  feet  on  the  railing,  leaned  his  head  back, 
and  looked  into  the  tree  tops.  Margaret  was  looking  at 
him. 

"What  compensation,  Rodger,  do  you  suppose  women 
have  for  not  smoking?"  she  asked  after  awhile. 

"Watching  us  as  we  smoke, "  was  the  reply. 

"And  that's  compensation  ?" 

"Ample,"  said  Mr.  Latimer;  "you  are  the  unselfish  sex. 
You  find  more  happiness  in  seeing  other  people  happy 
than  in  any  self-indulgence.  Don't  you  see  how  perfectly 
Providence  has  arranged  it  ?  But  what  are  you  going  to 
do  all  of  this  next  winter,  Margery?" 

"Just  what  I  did  all  of  last  winter,  I  suppose.  I  shall 
look  after  papa,  read  and  sew  a  little,  go  in  society 
some,  run  down  to  the  city  when  there  are  good  operas 
and  theaters,  and  write  a  great  many  long  letters  to  you. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  all  winter?" 

"  Don't  talk  of  my  next  winter,  I  hate  to  think  of  it. 
We've  had  such  a  perfect  day,  I  don't  wish  it  marred  by 
having  any  unpleasant  thoughts  thrust  on  me."  It  was 
full  ten  minutes  before  either  of  them  spoke  again, 
then  Mr.  Latimer  said:  "How  lovely  it  was  under  the 
trees  by  that  spring!  seems  to  me  you  know  all  of  the 
pretty  places  in  the  woods,  and  just  where  the  gold- 
enrod  grows.  How  lovely  it  is  out  here  to-night,  see 
how  bright  the  stars  are."  Margaret  glanced  from  Mr. 
Latimer's  face  to  the  stars  overhead  but  said  nothing; 
after  a  little  he  continued,  "  For  the  first  time  in  my  life 


48  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

Margery,  I  have  to-night  an  idea  of  what  you  and  your 
father  find  in  this  Edgewood  life.  How  pure  and  calm  it 
is,  how  unlike  the  crowd,  and  heat  and  noise  of  Clinton. 
It  don't  seem  possible  that  we  are  only  ten  miles  from 
that  dirty  city;  just  now  I  feel  as  though  I  would  like  to 
live  here  forever."  One  of  his  hands  rested  on  the  arm  of 
the  sea-chair,  and  as  he  ceased  speaking,  Margaret  laid 
her  hand  softly  upon  it;  instantly  he  turned  his  hand, 
and  took  hers  in  a  close  clasp. 

"The  stars  are  very  bright  for  so  clear  a  moonlight 
night,"  said  Margaret  after  a  long  silence;  "this  is  like 
some  of  our  old  Lausanne  evenings;  after  all  Rodger, 
last  summer  was  not  to  be  the  happiest  of  our  lives;  we 
always  speak  of  it  as  such  a  happy  time,  but  why  has  not 
to-day  been  just  as  happy  as  any  of  those  happy  days?" 

"  It  has  love,  it  has,"  replied  Mr.  Latimer,  "no  one  ought 
to  ask  for  a  happier  day  than  this  has  been. "  He  turned 
his  head  and  looked  at  the  girlish  face  leaning  against 
the  cushion,  and  into  the  large  luminous  eyes  full  of  love, 
holding  within  them  a  beauty  far  surpassing  that  of  moon 
or  stars.  Occasionally  a  footfall  had  been  heard  in  the 
distance;  it  had  come  nearer  and  sounded  louder,  passed 
by,  grown  fainter,  and  died  away  into  silence.  The 
passers  by  grew  fewer  and  fewer,  and  then  they  ceased  en- 
tirely, and  all  was  silent  on  the  street  of  this  country 
town,  in  the  early  evening.  The  last  robin  had  twittered 
itself  to  sleep  long  ago,  and  the  katydids  stopped  their 
song;  the  sacred  silence  of  night  rested  upon  the  earth. 
The  stars  passed  noiselessly  on,  Jupiter  came  from  the 
east  and  marching  toward  the  zenith  threw  his  brightest 
rays  on  Rodger  and  Margaret  as  they  sat  side  by  side,  the 
Pleiades  all  saw  the  happy  pair,  and  clustering  closer 
together,  swept  through  the  heavens  singing  their  song  of 
love.  Vega  and  Mars  peeped  through  the  leaves,  but  a 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


49 


fleecy  cloud  on  watch,  floated  between  and  hid  the  lovers 
from  their  gaze;  the  half  moon  in  the  south  drew  a  veil 
of  yellow  mist  across  her  face,  and  the  wind  with  finger 
on  her  lips,  crept  away  through  the  silent  night. 


4  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake, 


CHAPTER  V. 

One  cool  morning  in  the  first  week  of  November,  as 
Mr.  Latimer  was  stepping  from  the  sidewalk  •  into  the 
hall  of  the  block  in  which  his  office  was  located,  in  the 
city  of  Clinton,  he  met  Mr.  Grey  Whitridge. 

"Have  you  just  returned  to  the  city,  Mr.  Latimer?" 
asked  Grey  Whitridge,  after  the  young  men  had  heartily 
greeted  each  other. 

"  O  no,  I  have  been  here  at  work  for  six  weeks  or 
more." 

"Is  that  possible!    At   work?   May  I  ask    at  what?" 

"At  my  profession,  practicing  law,  although  I  can't  say 
that  I'm  doing  much  practicing  just  now.  I  am  going 
through  the  necessary  transition  stage  of  a  beginner. 
Step  up  to  my  office  and  have  a  cigar,  and  tell  me  of  your 
summer."  The  two  men  stepped  into  the  elevator,  and 
in  a  few  moments  were  seated  in  Mr.  Latimer's  office. 

"You  have  an  unusually  pleasant  office,  Mr  Latimer, 
with  all  of  these  south  windows,"  said  Grey  Whitridge, 
looking  around  the  room,  and  as  he  lighted  the  cigar  Mr. 
Latimer  gave  him^he  added:  "This  is  a  very  fine  cigar, 
where  do  you  get  them?  I've  had  a  world  of  trouble 
about  my  cigars;  seems  to  me  there  are  no  cigars  as  fine 
as  we  used  to  smoke  ten  years  ago.  I  was  out  of  all 
patience  in  London  with  the  vile  stuff  I  was  compelled 
to  use  there." 

"  Did  you  have  a  pleasant  time  in  London  ?"  asked 
Mr.  Latimer. 

"  No,  we  had  dreadful  weather,  the  worst  this  year  that 
I  ever  saw  there;  it  was  a  wet  season.  I  had  such  a 
constant  cold  I  could  not  enjoy  society  at  all,  so  I  went 

5° 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


5' 


into  the  country  to  shoot,  and  had  the  poorest  of  luck." 

"You  seem  to  have  had  a  combination  of  misfortunes," 
said  Mr.  Latimer. 

"Yes,  and  then  I  went  over  to  Paris;  the  rain  crossed 
with  me,  and  there  was  a  misunderstanding  between  myself 
and  some  friends  that  were  to  meet  me  there,  and  I 
missed  them,  which  was  a  great  disappointment.  It  was 
beautiful  weather  the  few  days  that  I  spent  in  Switzerland, 
on  the  mountains,  but  I  care  little  for  natural  scenery, 
simply  as  such,  so  the  fine  weather  there  was  of  no  special 
advantage  to  me." 

"  How  much  of  one's  pleasure  in  traveling  depends  upon 
the  weather!"  said  Latimer,  not  knowing  what  else  to  say. 

"  Yes,    I   thought  so  on   my  return  voyage. " 

"  Did  you  have  a  rough  passage  ?" 

"The  sailors  did  not  call  it  so,  but  I  thought  it  decid- 
edly rough.  We  had  heavy  fogs  and  rain,  and  a  rough  sea 
nearly  all  the  eight  days  that  we  were  out;  then  one  of  the 
passengers  died,  and  a  lady  went  insane  from  sea  sickness, 
or  from  the  remedies  she  took  to  relieve  her  sea  sickness. 
I've  always  considered  myself  a  good  sailor,  but  I'll  con- 
fess the  sea  got  the  upper  hand  of  me  this  trip.  I've  been 
over  eight  times,  and  all  of  the  discomfort  of  fifteen  of  the 
passages  put  together  would  not  equal  what  I  suffered  this 
return  voyage.  I  don't  believe  I'll  ever  go  to  Europe 
again.  I'll  spend  my  summers  in  this  country,  but  it's  a 
serious  question  where  one  can  pass  the  summer  months 
most  pleasantly,  I  never  cared  for  shooting  much,  and  I 
care  less  for  it  every  year.  I  expected  to  find  great 
enjoyment  in  salmon  fishing,  when  I  joined  the  Neytaya 
Club,  but  salmon  fishing  is  too  hard  work,  it's  a  tax 
physically  and  mentally;  I  never  shall  try  it  again.  On 
the  whole  I'm  glad  the  summer  is  past.  I  really  believe 
one  can  get  about  as  much  out  of  life  here  in  the  city  as 


5- 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


anywhere.  Clinton  is  to  be  very  gay  this  winter,  they 
say.  Everything  is  hazy  and  uncertain  yet,  but  definite 
programmes  will  begin  to  come  out  soon.  I  have  just 
heard  that  the  Blackwells  are  to  be  home  next  week,  and 
that  they  will  open  their  house.  You  know  the 
Blackwells?" 

"No,  or  at  least  I  have  simply  met  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Black- 
well  at  a  formal  dinner." 

"They  have  two  lovely  daughters,  who  were  educated 
abroad.  They  finished  their  studies  last  year,  but  Mrs. 
Blackwell  wished  to  keep  them  out  of  society  another 
year,  and  thought  that  would  be  impossible  if  they 
returned  to  their  own  home,  so  they  passed  last  winter  in 
Dresden;  but  they  will  have  their  house  opened  by  the 
first  of  the  month,  and  you  will  find  them  charming 
people.  Mrs.  Richmond  told  me  yesterday,  that  the 
prospects  were  for  an  early  and  gay  season. " 

Mr.  Latimer  had  nothing  to  say  in  reply  to  Grey 
Whitridge's  society  gossip.  What  could  he  reply  to  it? 
He  could  neither  deny  nor  affirm ;  what  was  the  approaching 
season  to  him?  Gay  Mrs.  Richmond,  the  Blackwells' 
beautiful  home  and  lovely  daughters,  did  not  come  within 
range  of  his  practical  knowledge.  Visions  of  operas, 
dances,  dinners,  carriages  and  flowers,  rose  before  him, 
as  part  and  parcel  of  Grey  Whitridge's  coming  winter, 
nor  did  the  vision  flit  before  him  and  pass  away,  but 
staid  in  his  mind,  each  moment  assuming  a  more 
beautiful  and  desirable  aspect.  He  looked  at  Grey 
Whitridge,  who  belonged  to  the  second  generation  oi 
wealth,  and  who  had  never  known  an  hour  of  either  phy- 
sical or  mental  striving;  there  he  sat,  so  surfeited  with 
the  good  things  of  earth,  that  his  pleasure  in  London  was 
destroyed  by  a  cold  he  had  taken,  Pans  ruined  by  rain, 
he  found  shooting  on  a  lord's  estate  stupid,  and  Swit- 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


53 


zerland  scenery  flat,  and  now  the  very  best  of  Clinton's- 
society  awaited  him  with  its  lovely  women,  beautiful 
homes,  clubs,  and  gay  men.  Bitterness  filled  Mr.  Lat- 
imer's  soul,  his  proud,  sensitive  nature  writhed  in  pain, 
but  he  only  said  in  an  unruffled  voice,  as  he  struck  a 
match  and  handed  it  to  Grey  Whitridge,  "You  have  let 
your  cigar  go  out,  Mr.  Whitridge. " 

After  Mr.  Whitridge  had  his  cigar  well  lighted  he  said: 
"  You  must  have  a  large  number  of  acquaintances  in  Clin- 
ton, Mr.  Latimer,  although  your  long  absence  at  Harvard 
has  prevented  your  ever  enjoying  one  of  our  society 
seasons. " 

"  No,  I  have  not  many  acquaintances  in  the  city.  I 
have  a  few  valued  friends,  but  not  any  general  acquaint- 
ances. You  must  remember  that  my  last  six  winters  have 
been  passed  in  Cambridge." 

"Well,  I  congratulate  you  on  your  prospects  for  this 
winter.  I  have  been  in  society  for  eight  or  ten  years" 
(Grey  Whitridge  was  thirty-eight  years  old)  "and  I  wish 
I  could  begin  again  with  the  zest  of  ten  years  ago.  If  1 
had  made  this  world,  I  would  have  given  all  men  unlim- 
ited wealth  and  youth." 

"And  all  women  ?"  interrogated  Mr.  Latimer,  with  a 
smile. 

"Equal  youth  and  perfect  beauty,^  replied  Grey  Whit- 
ridge, without  an  answering  smile.  "But,  Mr.  Latimer, 
we  are  not  going  to  permit  you  to  hide  yourself  in  this 
office."  Grey  Whitridge  turned  one  scrutinizing  glance 
on  Mr.  Latimer,  and  estimated  him  from  the  top  of  his 
large,  dark  brown  head,  to  the  tip  of  his  fashionably-made 
shoe;  he  passed  upon  his  clear,  intellectual  eye,  shapely 
hands,  well  fitting  clothes,  gentlemanly  manner,  well  mod- 
ulated voice,  linen,  necktie,  and  watchguard.  The  ver- 
dict was,"  He'll  do;  unusual  man,  handsome  fellow,  some- 


54 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


body  new;  yes,  I'll  bring  him  out."  "I  presume,"  he 
said,  "  that  you  have  come  out  of  college  with  great  ambi- 
tion, at  least  this  office  looks  like  it.  Ah!  Latimer,  it 
don't  pay,  there's  nothing  pays  less  than  work.  If  a  poor 
devil  is  compelled  to  do  it,  I  suppose  there  is  no  dodging 
it,  but  I  pity  him.  Yes,  you  smile,  I  know.  I've  heard 
it  all,  and  I  can  repeat  it  about  as  well  as  the  parson 
himself,  but  it  is  all  a  lie  from  beginning  to  end,  a  fine- 
spun theory  that  no  one  believes.  Now  yesterday,  for 
instance,  at  Trinity  Church,  Dr.  Moore  preached  a  sermon 
to  young  men;  it  was  specially  prepared  for  young  men 
who  have  come  here  this  autumn  to  find  employment  in 
business  houses.  It  was  the  old  cant  on  the  dignity  of 
human  nature,  nobleness  of  labor,  and  the  satisfying 
results  of  honest  toil.  The  old  doctor  ought  to  be  shied 
out  of  his  pulpit  into  the  lake,  if  he  don't  know  enough 
to  know  that  there  was  nothing  but  rhetoric  in  his  ser- 
mon, from  beginning  to  end." 

"  Suppose  he,  does  know,  what  then  ?"  asked  Mr.  Lat- 
imer. 

"  O,  I  suppose  he  would  have  had  to  preach  it  all  the 
same,  but  don't  you  make  a  mistake,  Latimer;  I've  seen 
many  do  it.  As  a  matter  of  course,  if  you  find  pleasure 
in  the  study  and  practice -of  law,  I  would  do  it,  for  happi- 
ness is  what  we're  all  after.  Some  men  may  find  pleasure 
in  pursuing  law  year  after  year,  but  I  doubt  it.  Judge 
Kent's  position  is  a  desirable  one,  so  is  Monroe's,  and 
Judge  Sargent's;  they  don't  do  much,  and  do  it  about  as 
they  please.  I  can  easily  imagine  that  a  practice  like 
theirs  might  make  an  agreeable  life;  but  Mr.  Prentice 
tells  me  that  he  worked  very  hard  for  twenty  years  after 
he  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  and  he  says  no  man  can  suc- 
ceed in  the  .profession,  who  is  nQt  willing  to  work  early 
and  late,  and  give  up  everything  but  his  work.  Now,  why 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  55 

should  a  man  do  this  when  there  is  no  pecuniary  necessity? 
It's  an  ambition  that  I  can't  understand.  Then  Mr. 
Prentice  says  that  few  succeed  with  all  of  their  hard  work, 
that  this  city  is  full  of  lawyers,  who  hardly  make  a  liv- 
ing, and  that  young  men,  especially,  have  a  hard  time  of 
it;  that  with  the  most  faithful  work,  they  can't  hope  for 
more  than  a  bare  subsistence.  What  a  doleful  prospect 
looming  up  before  young  men  who  are  compelled  to  earn 
their  bread?  I  tell  you  work  is  a  curse,  to  be  borne  if  a 
man  can't  rid  himself  of  it,  but  it  doesn't  pay.  Now  with 
you  it  is  all  so  different.  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Latimer,"  he 
continued,  as  he  turned  to  Mr.  Latimer  with  a  flattering 
air  of  respectful  deference,  "  but  I  wish  I  had  your  ad- 
vantages of  youth  and  person.  Why,  Latimer,  you  have 
the  world  before  you  to  choose  from;  before  spring,  half 
the  women  in  society  will  be  in  love  with  you,  and 
you  will  have  to  look  out  for  jealous  husbands,  and  bald- 
headed  fathers,  who  will  wonder  what  your  intentions 
are." 

Mr.  Latimer  felt  his  heart  beat  faster  with  gratified 
vanity  as  he  listened  to  the  words  of  Grey  Whitridge, 
who  was  one  of  the  acknowledged  authorities  of  Clinton 
society.  The  opening  of  the  door  fortunately  saved  him 
from  attempting  some  necessary  reply,  for  really  he  had 
nothing  at  all  to  say  to  Grey  Whitridge's  long  talk. 
As  a  strange  man  entered  the  room,  Grey  Whitridge  took 
his  leave.  Mr.  Latimer  asked  the  long-waited  for  client, 
as  he  took  the  stranger  to  be,  to  excuse  him  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  he  stepped  outside  of  the  door  with  Grey  Whit- 
ridge, who  said  to  him  on  parting: 

•  "  You  must  join  the  Dorchester  Club,  Mr.  Latimer. 
Have  you  an  engagement  for  this  evening  ?  I'll  drive 
round  for  you  after  dinner,  if  you  would  like  to  go  and 
see  Mrs.  Richmond.  Where  are  your  rooms?" 


56  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

Mr.  Latimer  told  him  that  he  was  engaged  for  the 
evening,  but  said  nothing  as  to  the  location  of  his  board- 
ing house  on  Hillson  street. 

"Very  well,"  replied  Grey  Whitridge,  "I'll  see  you  to- 
morrow." 

The  strange  man  proved  to  be,  not  a  wealthy  client,  but 
a  man  in  search  of  some  one  of  whom  Mr.  Latimer  knew 
nothing,  and  he  immediately  left.  Mr.  Latimer  went  to 
the  window  of  his  office,  that  overlooked  one  of  the  prin- 
cipal business  streets  of  the  city,  and  gazed  down  upon 
Grey  Whitridge,  who  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk, 
talking  with  Mr.  Walt  Richmond,  who  was  seated  in  his 
tilbury.  The  young  men  spoke  together  for  a  few 
moments,  then  Grey  Whitridge  took  a  seat  beside  Mr. 
Richmond  and  they  drove  off.  Mr.  Latimer  turned  from 
the  window  and  stood  alone  in  his  vacant  office.  His  air 
was  dejected,  his  face  gloomy  and  angry.  He  walked 
slowly  to  a  chair  that  was  at  the  end  of  the  large  table  in 
the  center  of  the  room,  and  sat  down.  As  he  raised  his 
arm  to  rest  it  upon  the  table,  he  saw  the  end  of  Mr.  Whit 
ridge's  cigar,  that  he  had  left  there.  He  took  it  up,  and 
threw  it  savagely  across  the  room. 

"D — n  the  man!"  he  growled  between  his  teeth,  then 
he  sank  into  moody  thought.  "  What  a  fool  I  was  to  stay 
in  Clinton.  I  hope  I  shall  never  see  Whitridge  again — 
come  to  my  boarding  house!"  In  imagination  he  saw 
the  raised  eyebrows,  and  the  ill-concealed  disgust,  and 
the  polite  leavetaking  of  the  society  man,  from  the  small 
room,  in  the  long  block  of  a  dozen  houses,  on  Hillson 
street.  He  saw  himself  dodging  into  his. office  all  winter, 
to  avoid  meeting  Grey  Whitridge,  or  some  one  of  his 
friends,  and  in  imagination  he  heard  the  inquiries  that 
would  be  made  for  him,  by  the  few  young  men  he  knew, 
for  a  week  or  so  at  the  first  of  the  season — whv  not  at  the 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


57 


opera,  or  theater,  or  at  the  club?  Inquiries  made  of  Grey 
Wbitridge  as  to  his  whereabouts,  and  imagined  his  replies 
— practicing  law,  no  money,  dependent  upon  himself;  and 
the  answering  comments — fine  fellow,  hard  luck  to  have 
to  drudge  and  grind.  Six  weeks,  and  not  a  client  yet! 
Only  some  copying,  and  looking  up  some  authorities  for 
Judge  Sargent.  The  years  rose  before  him,  slowly  adding 
themselves  together,  years  of  hard,  uncongenial  toil;  not 
of  speechmaking  on  great  elemental  principles,  or  cele- 
brated criminal  cases,  in  a  crowded  courtroom,  the  day 
beginning  with,  "May  it  please  your  honor,"  and  closing 
amid  a  crowd  of  friends,  and  members  of  the  bar,  con- 
gratulating him  on  his  eloquence  and  unanswerable 
arguments,  all  of  which  would  be  reported  in  the  next 
morning's  city  papers;  but  days  of  uninspiring  work, 
bending  his  back  over  that  table  in  endless  writing. 
Then  after  awhile  he  might  get  some  collecting  to  do, 
and  after  another  while,  he  might  be  retained  in  unim- 
portant suits,  and  all  for  what  ?  To  be  able  to  occupy  that 
one  room  on  Hillson  street,  and  pay  for  his  monotonous 
breakfasts,  luncheons  at  the  business  men's  counters  of 
some  restaurant,  ana  equally  monotonous  dinners.  After 
many  years  perhaps,  he  would  be  able  to  marry  Margaret 
McVey  and  have  her  board  with  him  in  that  same  house, 
or  possibly  at  one  a  grade  better.  The  thought  of  Mar- 
garet McVey  had  no  power  to  quell  the  tumult  of  his 
mind,  or  cast  a  cheering  ray  into  his  future.  From  his 
office  windows,  during  the  last  month,  he  had  looked 
down  on  the  increasing  crowds  in  the  street,  as  the  society 
people  gradually  returned  from  their  summer's  journ- 
eyings,  and  the  beautiful  women,  and  rapidly  passing  car- 
riages, with  their  prancing  horses  and  smart  coachmen, 
gave  a  bright  hue  to  life,  in  comparison  with  which 
Edgewood,  and  Margaret  McVey's  quiet  home,  rose 


58  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

before  him  as  flat  and  stale.  From  the  isolation  of  his 
office,  he  had  looked  on  passing  millionaires,  merchants, 
railroad  magnates,  bankers,  and  celebrated  laV/yers, 
whose  names  were  in  every  daily  paper,  and  some  of 
whom  were  men  of  national  reputation ;  a  few  of  these 
he  had  met  in  society;  others  he  merely  knew  by  sight, 
but  they,  and  their  wives,  and  sons  and  daughters,  seemed 
to  him  the  happy  dwellers  in  Elysium.  He  saw  the 
deference  paid  to  men  of  large  wealth  by  their  fellows 
and  he  considered  their  position  the  most  desirable  one 
on  earth.  He  was  not  aware  that  in  drawing  such  an 
inference  he  was  committing  the  blunder  common  to  youth, 
that  of  over-estimating  the  power  of  wealth  to  confer  hap- 
piness, and  under-estimating  the  amount  of  happiness 
.that  comes  from  the  simple  gratification  of  the  natural 
appetites  and  affections.  Over  the  wall,  that  a  moneyed 
caste  had  built  as  high  as  any  barrier  of  Indian  caste,  he 
could  in  his  imagination,  hear  the  music,  and  dancing, 
and  laughter  and  song,  of  well-bred  and  well-dressed  men 
and  women;  with  his  feverish  mind's  eye  he  could  see 
spacious  rooms  covered  with  soft  carpets,  flooded  by  a 
subdued  light,  the  air  sweet  with  the  odor  of  flowers; 
could  see  Ethel  Richmond  waltzing  down  the  Assembly 
Hall,  on  Grey  Whitridge's  arm,  and  Marie  Edwards  with 
Walt  Richmond,  and  then  came  to  him  over  this  insur- 
mountable barrier,  the  sound  of  merry  voices  at  dinner 
tables,  and  the  roll  of  carriages  through  the  streets  on 
their  way  to  the  parks  and  theaters.  His  mind  had  dwelt 
so  much  on  the  power  and  grandeur  that  wealth  conferred, 
and  saw  so  clearly  the  line  of  demarcation  between,  not 
wealth  and  poverty,  but  wealth  and  competence,  that 
life  without  wealth,  seemed  to  him  a  poor  gift,  but  with 
it,  of  inexhaustible  capabilities.  Grey  Whitridge's  con- 
versation with  him  that  morning,  had  only  confirmed  him 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


59 


in  these  views.  He  roused  himself  from  his  bitter  fore- 
casting of  the  future  with  a  start,  turning  sick  and  faint 
as  he  leaned  his  elbow  on  the  table,  and  rested  his  head 
on  his  hand.  Where  should  he  go,  how  rid  himself  of  this 
unbearable  prospect  of  poverty  and  mortification.  For 
two  hours  he  paced  the  floor  of  his  office,  in  which  time  a 
dozen  projects  were  harbored  and  abandoned.  Among 
these,  were  the  ideas  of  speculating  in  stocks,  going  onto 
a  Western  ranch,  appealing  to  his  uncle  for  sufficient 
money  to  give  him  a  social  position  until  he  could  earn 
one,  and  blowing  his  brains  out  with  his  pistol.  Turn 
which  way  he  would,  his*  logical  mind  was  thrown  back 
against  the  rock  of  steady  work,  and  its  legitimate  results. 
The  lines  deepened  around  his  mouth,  and  his  face  took 
on  the  desperate  look  of  an  animal  at  -bay.  Always  in 
the  past,  he  had  possessed  the  advantages  of  wealth,  as 
much  so,  as  though  he  had  been  born  to  a  large  estate, 
and  his  soul  revolted  from  the  circumscribed,  distasteful 
life  that  lay  before  him.  After  a  while  the  stupor  of  ner- 
vous exhaustion  came  over  him,  dulling  his  pain;  he  sat 
in  a  chair  by  the  window,  took  up  the  morning  paper,  and 
mechanically  ran  his  eye  down  its  columns. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

That  same  morning  Mrs.  Lundom  James  White  was 
sitting  in  her  library  before  an  anthracite  coal  fire,  look- 
ing over  the  morning  paper,  which  her  husband  had  thrown 
down,  when  the  maid  announced  to  him  that  the  horses 
were  waiting.  Suddenly  she  turned  and  cried,  "  Marie, 
come  here!" 

Marie  Edwards  rose  from  the  sofa  in  the  south  bay- 
window,  where  she  had  been  sitting  in  the  sun,  and  crossed 
the  room  in  her  slow,  stately  way  at  her  sister's  bidding. 

"Listen  to  this,"  said  Mrs.  White;  then  she  read  aloud 
the  following  item: 

"  A  dispatch  from  Boston  announces  the  death  of  Gil- 
bert H.  Latimer  in  that  city  last  evening  at  six  o'clock. 
His  death,  which  was  wholly  unexpected,  was  caused  by 
apoplexy.  Mr.  Latimer  was  born  in  Buffalo,  N.  V., 
April  13,  1820.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Commercial 
Exchange  in  Buffalo  for  many  years.  In  1870  he  became 
interested  in  Western  railroads,  and  removed  from  Buffalo 
to  Boston,  in  which  city  he  has  since  resided.  He  was 
a  successful  business  man,  and  died  possessed  of  several 
millions.  Mr.  Gilbert  Latimer  was  a  bachelor,  but  his 
courteous,  genial  temperament  gained  for  him  numerous 
friends.  He  was  a  man  of  great  benevolence,  and  was 
actively  interested  in  several  charitable  institutions  of 
Boston.  His  only  known  relative  is  Mr.  Rodger  Latimer, 
a  brilliant  young  attorney  of  this  city,  who  is  the  only 
child  of  the  late  Professor  Latimer  of  Edgewood  College." 

You  remember   Rodger   Latimer,    don't   you,   Marie?" 
asked  Mrs.  White,  as  she   laid  the  paper  across  her   lap, 
and  looked  up  with  an  expression  of  alert  interest. 
60 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  6 1 

"  Yes,  and  he  fs  a  brilliant  man."  After  several  minutes 
of  unbroken  silence  Marie  continued,  "  He  refused  your 
invitation  to  join  the  Assembly,  didn't  he?" 

"Yes  he  did,  and  I  was  disappointed,  for  he  is  an 
agreeable  man,  and  a  fine  dancer.  Don't  you  remember 
how  beautifully  he  and  Ethel  Richmond  danced  together 
last -winter?" 

"I  wonder  why  he  refused." 

"I  don't  know,  there's  something  strange  about  it;  he 
seems  fond  of  society,  and  fond  of  dancing.  I  wonder — " 
Mrs.  White  leaned  forward,  crossed  her  hands  on  her 
knees,  and  gazed  into  the  fire.  Her  sister  waited  full 
five  minutes  in  silence,  then  impatiently  asked,  "You 
wonder  at  what?"  It  was  another  five  minutes  before 
reflective  Mrs.  White  deigned  a  reply. 

"  It  may  be  Marie,  that  Mr.  Latimer's  poor.  The  excuse 
he  gave  me  was,  that  he  couldn't  spare  time  from  his 
professional  duties;  he  said  he  was  very  much  interested 
in  his  profession,  and  if  he  made  a  success  of  it,  he  must 
devote  himself  to  it.  Perhaps  he's  dependent  upon  his 
practice;  if  that  was  his  reason  for  refusing  my  invitation, 
this  death  of  his  uncle  will  remove  it,  for  it  must  be  that 
his  uncle  would  leave  him  something  handsome,  even  if 
he  didn't  give  him  all  of  his  property."  Both  ladies 
gazed  into  the  fire  with  serious,  diplomatic  faces. 

"Newspaper  reports  can't  be  relied  on,"  said  Mrs. 
White  after  a  little.  "I  wish  I  knew,"  then  followed 
another  silence  that  was  broken  by  Marie. 

"Suppose  his  uncle  did  leave  him  money;  how  do  you 
know  he  cares  for  society?  he  may  like  his  profession 
better  than  he  likes  dancing,  and  shut  himself  up  to  it." 

"Fiddle-de-dee!  how  do  I  know  anything?  I  know 
young  men,  and  if  he  gets  a  million  from  his  uncle,  and 
don't  go  into  Clinton  society  this  winter,  he  will  be  a 


62  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

different  young  man  from  any  I  ever  saw.  The  thing  is 
to  be  sure  of  the  fact;  I  don't  want  to  make  a  blunder. 
The  will  may  not  be  published."  Again  Mrs.  White 
relapsed  into  another  silence  of  ten  minutes,  after  which 
she  rose  and  went  to  the  portieres  that  hung  between  the 
library  and  dining-room,  paited  them,  and  thrusting  her 
head  forward,  looked  around  the  dining-room;  when  she 
had  convinced  herself  that  no  servant  was  within  hearing, 
she  returned  to  her  seat. 

"I've  changed  my  mind  about  Grey  Whitridge,"  she 
said  in  a  low  voice;  "  I  really  don't  know  what  to  think 
of  him,  but  I  don't  believe  he  wants  to  get  married;  why 
hasn't  he  been  here  since  his  return?  Mrs.  Richmond 
told  me  last  evening  that  Mr.  Richmond  overheard  him 
say,  when  Mr.  Barstow  was  rallying  him  about  being 
engaged  to  Edith  Morrison,  that  he  was  not  engaged  and 
had  no  idea  of  being;  that  he  had  much  rather  flirt  with 
young  married  women  than  to  get  married." 

"What  a  speech  for  a  man  to  make!"  exclaimed  Marie. 
"  Grey  Whitridge  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself.  I  don't 
think  Edith  Morrison  is  much  of  a  girl,  but  if  that  is  the 
way  he  talks,  she's  too  good  for  him." 

"  I  don't  believe  he's  very  good;  you  know  he  was  edu- 
cated in  Germany,  and  then  he  has  so  much  money,  and 
nothing  to  do,"  rejoined  Mrs.  White.  "  It's  enough  to 
spoil  any  man  to  be  petted  as  he  has  been  for  the  last 
four  or  five  years.  I  should  think  he  would  be  sick  to 
death  of  being  run  after  and  complimented." 

"  He's  a  rather  heavy  man  to  entertain,"  said  Marie. 

'Yes,  because  he  is  entertained  so  much,  he  just  leans 
back  to  be  entertained;  he's  found  out  that  we  are  willing 
to  take  him,  and  do  all  of  the  entertaining  ourselves,  but 
he  can  be  charming  if  he  chooses." 

"He  don't  very  often  choose." 


RODGER  LATIMERS  MISTAKE  63 

'*  No,  but  don  t  you  remember  how  well  he  talked  last 
spring,  at  our  Lord  Harrod's  dinner?  he  seemed  to  know 
London,  and  English  affairs  as  well  as  Lord  Harrod 
himself."  Again  the  two  women  sank  into  silence,  Mrs. 
White  gazing  into  the  fire  with  contracted  brows;  after 
awhile  she  spoke:  "  Now,  Marie,  I'll  find  out  in  some  way 
about  Rodger  Latimer's  affairs;  you  leave  it  all  to  me." 

"  Leave  it  to  you,  Harriet!"  exclaimed  Marie  in  a  petu- 
lant voice,  "do  you  suppose  I'm  going  to  do  anything? 
The  Lord  knows  I  would  if  I  could,  but  what  can  a  girl 
do  nowadays?"  Marie's  usually  handsome  face  was  any- 
thing but  handsome  as  she  relapsed  into  silence,  shadowed 
as  it  was  with  an  expression  of  discontent  and  resentment. 
Mrs.  White  raisd  her  eyes  from  the  fire  to  her  sister's  face, 
with  a  quick,  impatient  jerk  of  her  head,  but  as  her  eyes 
remained  fixed  upon  Marie,  the  expression  of  impatience 
changed  to  one  of  sympathy  and  earnest  thought. 

"I  know,"  she  said,  "that  all  of  our  plans  seem  to  fail, 
but  there's  no  use  in  looking  in  that  discouraged  way; 
one  would  suppose  we  had  come  to  the  end  of  all  things. 
You're  only  twenty-four;  girls  don't  marry  as  young  as 
they  used  to;  we'll  make  this  winter  tell  in  some  way. 
I've  about  made  up  my  mind  that  Grey  Whitridge  will 
never  marry.  I  don't  believe  he  wants  a  home  and  wife 
of  his  own." 

"I  don't  know  why  he  should;  he  has  a  dozen  homes  or 
more  in  Clinton  now,  and  heaven  only  knows  how  many 
in  Washington  and  New  York;  as  long  as  other  men's 
wives  pet  and  humor  him  as  they  do,  what  does  he  want 
of  a  wife  of  his  own?" 

"That's  an  ill-natured  speech,  Marie.  What  do  you 
know  of  his  position  in  New  York  or  Washington 
society?" 

"Nothing,  only  what  I  know   of  his  position  here,  and 


6  4  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

what  I  hear  and  read  of  New  York  and  Washington 
society,  and  he  is  frequently  in  both  places.  If  he  is 
invited  out  as  much  there,  and  danced  with,  and  flirted 
with  there,  as  he  is  here  by  married  women,  the  poor 
fellow  hasn't  time  to  think  of  getting  married." 

"I  don't  think  he  finds  his  time  passes  unpleasantly," 
said  Mrs.  White,  growing  a  little  ill-natured  herself. 

"No,  I  presume  not.  I  dare  say  he  likes  it  all,  but 
really  I  do  believe  he  is  getting  a  little  cloyed  by  all  of 
the  honey  he  has  had  poured  down  his  throat,  and  is 
growing  tired  of  all  women,  married  and  single." 

"Well,  he's  not  the  only  man  in  the  world.  Let  him 
go;  there's  half  a  dozen  right  here  worth  as  much  as  he  in 
every  respect,  and  then  who  knows  what  strangers  we  may 
have  in  town  during  the  winter.  I  am  determined  that 
you  shall  visit  Washington  this  season.  When  I  was  there 
I  did  not  see  as  handsome  a  girl  as  you,  in  all  of  the 
crowds.  I  don't  believe  James  will  let  me  go  again  this 
winter,  but  I'll  manage  it.  I  thought  it  all  out  one  night 
when  I  couldn't  sleep.  The  McClures  are  going  to  spend 
January  in  Washington,  and  they  know  the  best  people 
there,  the  society  people.  " 

"I  see;  but  Mrs.  McClure  may  not  wish  to  chaperone  any 
one  but  Ada.  You  know,  Harriet,  tliat  a  mother  don't 
care  to  have  a  girl  that  is  handsomer  than  her  own 
daughter  constantly  around.  I  never  did  think  much  of 
your  Washington  plan. " 

"No,  you  don't  usually  think  much  of  any  of  my  plans, 
but  I  think  I've  managed  my  own  social  matters  very 
well."  Marie  hastened  to  appease  her  wealthy  sister: 

"Come,  come,  Harriet,  you  know  I  think  you're  the 
smartest  woman  in  the  world.  I'm  sure  I've  done  just 
what  you  wished  me  to  do  for  the  last  three  years." 

"Yes,   and  you'll  not   be  surry,  only  be  patient,  and 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  65 

don't  do  anything  in  haste.  I'm  so  afraid  you'll  fall  in 
love  with  some  of  these  men  who  have  just  enough  to 
drag  along." 

"You  needn't  be  alarmed,"  interrupted  Marie.  "I 'saw 
enough  of  the  disadvantages  of  poverty  before  I  came 
here,  and  have  seen  enough  of  the  advantages  of  money 
since  I  have  lived  in  Clinton,  to  keep  me  from  making  a 
fool  of  myself." 

Mrs.  White  took  the  paper  from  her  knee  and  read  the 
obituary  notice  over  again  to  herself.  "This  uncle's 
property  may  be  over-estimated,"  she  said,  laying  the 
paper  again  on  her  lap.  "Fortunes  usually  are;  but  then 
he  must  have  been  a  rich  man,  for  he  seems  to  have  had 
some  prominence.  'Several  millions, '"  it  says,  referring 
to  the  paper  on  her  lap ;  "suppose  he  had  only  one  million, 
and  gave  only  half  of  that  to  his  nephew,  it  would 
be  a  handsome  fortune  to  begin  with,  and  he  could  easily 
go  on  in  Clinton  with  such  a  start  and  become  a  very  rich 
man.  'A  son  of  T.  C.  Latimer  of  Edgewood  College;' 
that  must  be  Professor  McVey's  friend,  the  Professor 
Latimer  I've  heard  him  frequently  speak  of." 

Mrs.  White  leaned  her  head  back  against  her  chair  and 
gazed  at  the  ceiling  for  a  few  moments  in  earnest  thought, 
then  went  to  a  writing  table  that  stood  in  the  room,  and 
slowly,  with  great  care,  wrote  a  note,  looking  absently 
out  of  a  window  opposite  for  several  consecutive  minutes 
between  the  sentences.  When  it  was  finished  she  sat  with 
her  eyes  fixed  on  it  for  some  little  time;  evidently  it  did' 
not  suit  her,  for  she  tore  it  up  and  threw  the  bits  in  the 
waste  basket,  and  commenced  another.  Marie  meantime 
was  looking  into  the  fire  at  swiftly-moving  panoramic 
scenes  created  by  her  memory.  The  first  picture  was  of 
her  father's  store  in  the  New  England  village;  in  one 
corner  of  this  store  was  the  postoffice,  at  the  counter  her 
5  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake. 


66  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

father  sold  calico,  muslin,  lamp  chimneys  and  wicks  and 
coal  oil,  sugar,  tea,  coffee,  shovels,  rakes  and  grass  seed, 
together  with  cheap  fish-hooks  and  lines  to  impecunious 
summer  tourists,  who  did  not  aspire  to  the  ownership  of  a 
hand-made,  hexagonal,  split  bamboo  rod.  Then  across 
the  coals  quickly  followed  a  view  of  her  sister's  marriage 
to  the  Clinton  iron  merchant,  when  Marie  was  ten  years 
old,  Harriet  twenty,  and  the  iron  merchant  forty-five. 
The  next  picture  was  of  the  four  years  of  school  life  that 
she  passed  as  a  pupil  in  a  seminary,  where  her  sister  paid 
her  bills,  and  then  of  the  two  years  she  had 'taught  in 
another  seminary  as  an  assistant  teacher.  All  through, 
as  a  sort  of  background  to  these  pictures,  ran  a  dull  gray 
of  economy,  spring  suits  made  over  from  her  sister's  last 
year's  ones,  the  sewing  being  done  after  study  hours  had 
passed  in  the  evenings — mended  gloves,  mitts  manufact- 
ured from  her  sister's  worn  silk  gloves  by  cutting  off  the 
fingers  and  hemming  them  round  the  hand,  patched  walk- 
ing boots,  and  home-made  bonnets  and  hats.  Then  fol- 
lowed a  view  of  her  arrival  four  years  before  in  Clinton. 
She  closed  her  eyes  as  she  thought  over  the  delirium  of 
that  first  winter,  with  its  novel  splendor  and  gaiety,  but 
opened  them  and  gazed  into  the  fire  as  the  last  three 
seemingly  endless,  years  of  her  life  passed  before  her, 
with  their  tangled  plans  and  efforts  and  disappointments. 
These  three  years  of  effort  on  Marie  Edwards'  xpart  to 
establish  herself  as  the  mistress  of  a  wealthy  home,  had 
crystallized  the  artless  girl  into  a  managing  society 
woman  of  great  tact  and  complete  self-control;  a  much 
deeper  and  shrewder  woman  than  her  less  selfish  and  less 
intellectual  sister,  Harriet,  gave  her  credit  for  being. 

"Listen  to  this  and  see  what  you  think  of  it,"  said  Mrs. 
White,  as  she  stood  by  her  sister's  side  with  her  finished 
note  in  her  hand. 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  67 

Dear  Jfr.  Latimer: 

Can  you  dine  with  us  informally,  next  Tuesday,  at  half-past  six? 
I  have  not  heard  a  word  of  my  dear  old  friend  Professor  McVey  for 
months,  and  probably  you  can  give  me  some  information  regarding 
him.  And  then  I  wish  for  an  opportunity  to  appeal  to  your  kind 
heart,  to  reconsider  your  decision  not  to  join  our  Assembly  this  win- 
ter. The  committee  had  numbered  you  among  my  special  friends, 
and  I  have  some  little  pride  in  showing  that  they  were  not  mistaken. 
Please  come  as  an  old  friend  ;  you  will  meet  no  one  beside  the  family. 

Very  sincerely, 

HARRIET  F.  WHITE. 
1326  Madison  Avenue. 
Nov.  6th,  1 8  8— 

•'This  is  the  seventh,  not  the  sixth,"  said  Marie. 

"I  know  it,  you  goosie,"  replied  Mrs.  White.  "  I  dated 
it  back ;  do  you  suppose  I  would  write  that  invitation  to- 
day, with  this  notice  of  his  uncle's  death  coming  out  in 
this  morning's  paper?"  Mrs.  White  touched  the  bell,  and 
ordered  the  answering  maid  to  call  her  coachman. 

"Now  Michael,"  she  said,  when  the  obsequious  man 
stood  before  her,  "  I  wish  you  to  pay  strict  attention  to 
what  I  say,  as  this  is  an  important  business  matter,  and 
you  must  be  sure  and  make  no  mistake.  I  wish  you  to 
take  this  note  to  Mr.  Rodger  Latimer's  office;  he  is  a 
young  lawyer,  who  has  just  opened  an  office  down  town.  I 
don't  know  where  his  office  is,  you  can  find  it  some  way; 
take  this  note  to  his  office  and  leave  it  for  him,  and  be 
sure  and  tell  the  man,  or  whoever  you  see,  to  say  to  Mr. 
Latimer  when  they  give  him  the  note,  that  you  were  sent 
with  it.  yesterday  and  could  not  find  his  office,  and  that 
you  are  very  sorry,  and  hope  that  it  will  make  no  differ- 
ence with  Mr.  Latimer;  you  understand,  Michael;  this  is 
some  business  that  I  ought  to  have  attended  to  yesterday, 
and  you  be  sure  to  say  to  the  man,  to  tell  Mr.  Latimer 
that  you  were  sent  yesterday.  Go  over  to  Newman  street 
and  take  the  car  if  you  can  go  quicker  that  way,  but  if 
not,  take  a  hors*>.  You  are  sure  that  you  understand?" 
The  quick-witted  Irishman  assured  her  that  he  understood, 


68  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

and  left  the  room  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  floor.  Mrs. 
White  went  back  to  the  fire  and  placed  one  hand  on  the 
mantel,  as  she  rested  her  foot  on  the  fender,  and  drew  up 
her  dress  skirt,  so  that  the  heat  could  strike  her  ankle. 

"Do  you  think  that  safe?"  asked  Marie. 

"Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  White,  "Michael  knows  too  much, 
to  ever  say  a  word. "  She  gazed  abstractedly  into  the  fire  as 
she  added:  "  No  knowing  what  old  Latimer  did  with  his 
property;  I  wish  I  knew." 

It  was  not  many  days  before  all  of  Rodger  Latimer's 
friends  knew,  that  his  uncle's  property  had  been  equally 
divided;  and  that  Rodger  Latimer  received  one-half,  the 
other  half  being  given  to  several  charitable  institutions  in 
Boston. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

It  would  seem  on  first  thought,  that  Rodger  Latimer's 
course  in  life  was  now  a  perfectly  straight  one.  That 
there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do,  but  marry  Margaret 
McVey  and  go  happily  through  the  years,  enjoying  all  of 
the  blessings  of  the  love  and  wealth  Providence  had  so 
bountifully  bestowed  upon  him.  But  human  nature  is  of 
complex  organization.  Mr.  Latimer  at  this  time  had  no 
other  thought  but  that  of  marrying  Margaret  sometime  in 
the  near  future,  and  settling  down  in  his  own  home,  as  an 
orderly  and  useful  citizen  of  Clinton.  But  when  all  of  the 
nightmare  horrors  of  poverty  and  mortification  that  had 
laid  hold  of  him,  were  dispelled  by  the  pleasant  shock  of 
a  shower  of  gold,  his  first  thought  was,  that  now  he  could 
become  a  part  of  the  brilliant  dash  he  had  seen  flying  past 
him,  and  that  all  of  the  glittering  paraphernalia  of  society 
life  was  within  his  reach.  The  prospect  was  intoxicating; 
he  could  not  turn  his  back  on  the  fleeting  forms  of  beauty 
that  beckoned  him  to  follow  into  the  bewildering  maze 
before  him,  and  settle  down  as  the  staid  husband  of  a 
simple  village  girl.  The  barriers  had  been  thrown  down, 
and  every  path  in  the  Elysian  fields  was  open  to  his  feet; 
his  heart  beat  high  with  joyous  emotions,  his  judgment 
was  led  by  a  disordered  fancy,  and  he  was  eager  to  leave 
the  narrow  circle  of  his  personal  life,  and  enter  the  bound- 
less land  of  unsurpassing  beauty,  that  for  weeks  he  had 
caught  glimpses  of,  from  the  gloomy  solitude  of  his  office. 
Life  assumed  a  new  phase;  it  was  set  to  music,  and  all  in 
high  notes.  His  first  pleasant  experience  was  the  select- 
ing of  rooms  at  the  Bellevue,  the  purchasing  of  pictures, 
rugs  and  bric-a-brac,  a  saddle  horse  and  a  team.  He 
69 


7° 


RODGER    LATIMFR'S   MISTAKE 


feared  at  times  that  it  might  all  be  a  dream,  and  that  he 
would  waken  to  find  the  old  life  of  toil  and  economy  a 
bitter  reality:  but  he  lay  down  to  sleep,  arose  to  eat,  ar.d 
walk  among  men,  and  there  remained  the  solid  fact  of 
wealth  to  his  credit.  He  wondered  at  times  that  the 
earthquake  that  had  elevated  his  personal  life  to  such  a 
pleasing  altitude,  had  not  caused  the  slightest  tremor  of 
the  earth  beyond  the  small  portion  covered  by  his  own 
feet.  For  a  few  clays  he  was  congratulated  by  his  friends 
on  his  inheritance  of  a  fortune;  then  men  met  him  as 
though  the  present  order  had  held  from  the  beginning. 
Soon  he  was  afloat  on  the  waves  of  society,  invitations 
poured  in  upon  him,  and  Grey  Whitridge  was  always  at 
his  elbow  to  advise  in  selecting  the  most  desirable.  He 
would  have  liked  to  have  accepted  them  all,  and  in  his 
heart,  he  regretted  his  inability  to  be  in  half  a  dozen- 
places  at  the  same  time. 

A  short  time  after  his  pleasant  entrance  into  society  a 
celebrated  actor  came  to  Clinton  to  fill  an  engagement. 
He  had  been  long  heralded,  and  much  talked  of,  and  Mr. 
Latimer  received  invitations  to  several  of  the  parties  that 
had  been  formed  for  the  opening  night,  but  unfortunately 
important  business  called  him  to  a  neighboring  city,  and 
he  had  no  idea  that  he  could  finish  his  business  and  return 
in  time  for  the  first  night  of  the  theater.  He  regretfully 
refused  all  of  the  invitations,  being  careful  to  state  the 
reason  for  his  refusal.  Much  to  his  surprise,  however,  he 
dispatched  his  business  with  unexpected  rapidity,  and 
found  that  he  could,  by  traveling  part  of  one  night,  reach 
Clinton  early  in  the -evening  before  the  play  began.  He 
telegraphed  to  his  hotel  for  a  ticket  to  be  obtained  for 
him,  and  started  for  home,  where  he  found  a  ticket  for  a 
seat  in  the  parquet  awaiting  him.  He  entered  the  opera 
house  a  few  moments  before  the  curtain  rose,  and  had 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  7I 

scarcely  seated  himself,  before  two  ushers  came  to  him, 
one  with  an  invitation  from  Mrs.  Richmond,  and  the  other 
with  a  like  invitation  from  Mrs.  Lefarve  to  a  seat  in  their 
respective  boxes.  Before  he  could  rise  to  his  feet,  a  third 
usher  approached  with  an  invitation  from  Mrs.  Lundom 
White,  to  her  box.  He  slightly  bowed  to  Mrs.  Richmond 
and  Mrs.  Lefarve,  whose  boxes  were  side  by  side,  and 
then  glanced  up  to  Mrs.  White,  who  was  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  house,  leaning  forward  as  her  arm  rested  on 
the  front  of  her  box,  smiling  down  on  him.  There  flashed 
into  his  mind  a  remembrance  of  that  kind  invitation  of 
Mrs.  White's,  to  her  family  table  and  fireside,  sent  him 
when  he  was  a  poor  attorney,  and  her  almost  persistent 
urgency  that  he  join  the  Assembly.  He  acknowledged 
her  smiling  recognition,  and  soon  was  seated  in  her  box 
beside  Mr.  White,  directly  back  of  Marie  Edwards,  who 
immediately  turned  her  chair  so  that  as  she  faced  the 
stage  her  side  was  toward  Mr.  Latimer.  Miss  Edwards 
welcomed  him  with  a  smile  that  was  peculiar  to  herself,  a 
smile  that  never  seemed  to  stir  the  lips,  but  consisted  of 
a  brightening  flash  over  the  face,  not  of  color,  for  color 
was  never  seen  in  Marie  Edwards'  face,  but  a  flash  of 
pleased  recognition,  and  the  holding  of  the  man's  eye  for 
one  slight  moment,  with  an  expression  of  intense  delight 
that  made  him  feel,  that  of  all  living  mortals,  he  was  the 
most  welcome.  It  mattered  not  how  frequently  a  man 
might  receive  this  salutation,  repetition  could  not  dull  the 
effect  of  that  rapt,  instantaneous  gaze.  There  was  the 
advantage  in  such  an  unspoken  greeting,  that  only  the 
receiver  was  aware  of  it.  Each  man  to  whom  the  young 
woman  pleased  to  accord  this  welcome,  thought  himself 
the  one  specially  favored,  and  prized  a  greeting  that  was 
no  hackneyed  form  of  speech,  words  cheapened  until 
worthless,  by  being  spoken  impartially  to  all.  No  one 


72  RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

would  have  thought  for  a  moment  that  Mr.  Latimer  was 
flattered  by  the  attention  which  he  had  received,  but  under 
his  dignity  of  manner  there  was  a  delightful  flutter  of 
gratified  vanity.  Clinton's  best  society  was  out  that 
night  to  welcome  the  great  actor,  and  Mr.  Latimer  had 
seen  the  opera-glasses  turned  on  him  as  the  three  ushers 
stood  around  him,  with  the  flattering  recognition  which 
they  brought  from  three  of  Clinton's  social  leaders  at  the 
same  time.  As  he  walked  up  the  aisle  on  his  way  to  Mrs. 
White's  box,  he  was  aware  that  hundreds  of  eyes  were 
gazing  on  him,  and  there  came  to  his  mind  the  remark 
Grey  Whitridge  had  made  that  miserable  morning  in  his 
office,  the  morning  that  he  had  first  met  him  after  his 
return  from  Europe  in  the  autumn,  "  Pardon  me,  Latimer, 
but  I  wish  I  had  your  advantages  of  person."  Rodger 
Latimer  knew  that  he  was  a  handsome  man,  and  he  knew 
also  that  he  was  a  well  dressed  man,  knowledge  that  went 
far  in  keeping  him  undisturbed  under  the  scrutiny  of 
numberless  eyes.  When  the  curtain  dropped  on  the  closing 
of  the  second  act,  he  went  over  to  Mrs.  Richmond's  box 
and  stood  beside  her  and  her  delicate  looking  daughter, 
Ethel,  for  a  few  moments  in  animated  conversation,  and 
then  stepped  into  Mrs.  Lefarve's  box,  to  thank  her  also 
for  her  courtesy. 

"Why  didn't  you  come  and  sit  with  me,  you  naughty 
man,"  said  sprightly  Mrs.  Lefarve,  a  woman  of  twenty- 
seven,  as  she  playfully  beat  Mr.  Latimer's  hand  with 
her  fan.  "  We  had  just  this  one  place,  and  I  determined 
to  have  the  handsomest  man  in  the  house  occupy  it,  and 
when  you  wouldn't  come,  I  wouldn't  let  any  one  have  it." 

Mr.  Latimer  spent  a  few  moments  in  complimentary 
raillery,  and  then  returned  to  Marie  Edwards'  side,  with  a 
Jacqueminot  rose  from  Mrs.  Lefarve's  bouquet,  in  the 
buttonhole  of  his  coat.  She  had  given  it  to  him  with  the 


RODGER    LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 


73 


remark :  "  You  must  wear  my  color,  if  you  do  sit  with  Mrs. 
White." 

When  Marie  Edwards  noticed  the  rose,  she  took  a 
Bon  Silene  from  her  own  bouquet  and  handed  him, 
holding  out  her  other  hand  for  Mrs.  Lefarve's  Jacque- 
minot, which  Mr.  Latimer  covered  with  one  hand,  as  he 
slightly  shook  his  head,  reaching  at  the  same  time  for  the 
proffered  Bon  Silene,  with  an  expression  of  smiling  en- 
treaty. Miss  Edwards  answered  his  look  with  one  of 
her  peculiar  flashes,  as  she  laid  her  rose  on  her  white 
wrap  on  her  knee,  and  immediately  turned  her  attention 
to  the  stage.  Mr.  Latimer  was  fond  of  the  theater  and 
usually  gave  his  undivided  attention  to  the  play,  but 
just  then  the  girl  at  his  side  distracted  his  thought. 
His  eyes  wandered  to  the  beautiful  white  throat,  and 
rested  on  the  curve  where  the  cheek  sloped  to  the, neck, 
under  the  exquisitely  formed  ear.  All  was  graceful  undu- 
lation, from  the  low  broad  brow,  down  the  nose,  across 
the  clear  white  cheeks,  over  the  full  lips  and  round  chin, 
to  the  large  white  throat,  where  the  perfect  lines  expanded 
into  the  velvety  softness  of  the  neck,  plainly  shown  by 
the  square  cut  corsage,  and  expanded  still  more  into  the 
full  bust  that  rose  and  fell,  with  every  breath,  under  the 
bodice  of  some  soft  white  fabric.  After  a  little,  he  reso- 
lutely turned  his  eyes  to  the  stage,  but  it  was  only  a  few 
moments  before  he  was  looking  at  the  well  formed  hand 
under  which  lay  the  coveted  rose,  and  from^he  hand  his 
eyes  slowly  traveled  up  over  the  arm,  and  bust,  and  neck, 
and  cheek,  and  rested  upon  the  drooping  lids  that  seemed 
charged  by  the  lightning  that  lay  beneath.  When  the 
play  closed,  he  was  much  more  under  the  influence  of 
Marie  Edwards  than  of  the  great  tragedian.  As  they 
left  the  box  Miss  Edwards  placed  the  rose  that  she  had 
detached  from  her  bouquet,  between  the  first  and  second 


74 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


finger  of  the  hand  that  held  her  flowers,  thus  keeping  it 
separate  from  the  others.  Mr.  Latimer  noticed  this,  and 
as  they  stood  close  together  in  the  crowded  passage  way, 
he  touched  it  with  one  finger,  and  said: 

"Am  I  not  to  be  honored  with  the  keeping  of  that  rose, 
Miss  Edwards?" 

"You  do  not  understand  women,  Mr.  Latimer,"  Miss 
Edwards  replied  in  a  soft  voice,  with  the  lids  low  down 
over  the  brown  eyes.  In  the  crowd  her  fi.ce  was  near 
his  as  she  continued:  "  No  gentleman  can  wear  the  colors 
of  two  ladies  at  the  same  time." 

As  she  said  this,  she  suddenly  raised  her  eyes  to  his  a 
moment,  and  then  veiled  them  again.  Quickly  his  hand 
went  beneath  his  coat  lapel,  the  pin  was  drawn  out,  and 
the  Jacqueminot  lay  on  the  top  of  Miss  Edwards'  bouquet, 
as  with  a  whispered,  "  Permit  me,"  he  took  the  Bon  Silene 
and  placed  it  where  Mrs.  Lefarve's  flowers  rested  a  moment 
before. 

"Come  and  take  a  cup  of  tea  with  us  to-morrow,"  said 
Mrs.  White  to  Mr.  Latimer,  as  he  was  closing  their  car- 
riage door,  after  he  bade  them  good-night;  "then  we  will 
all  go  together  to  Mrs.  McClure's.  I  know  you  are  to  be 
at  her  dinner  and  theater  party,  and  it  will  be  lovely  for 
us  all  to  go  together — tea  at  five,  remember." 

The  first  thing  Marie  Edwards  did  after  closing  her 
bedroom  door  on  her  return  home,  was  to  take  a  tiny  vase 
from  the  mantel,  step  to  her  bathroom  and  fill  it  with 
water,  and  after  placing  Mrs.  Lefarve's  Jacqueminot  in 
it,  set  it  on  a  corner  of  her  bureau.  Then  she  seated  her- 
self in  her  usual  stately  way  in  a  chair  in  front  of  the 
bureau,  and  fixed  her  eyes  upon  the  solitary  rose,  with 
what  would  have  seemed  to  a  spectator  of  the  pantomime, 
a  most  ridiculous  gravity.  But  never  did  a  general  fix 
his  eyes  upon  the  map,  outlining  his  first  move  in  a  cam- 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  75 

paign,  with  greater  interest,  than  Marie  gazed  at  the  half- 
crushed  Jacqueminot.  It  was  the  result  of  her  arrows  tried 
on  new  game.  The  opening  of  the  door  aroused  her. 

"Why  Marie,  what  have  you  been  doing?  haven't  you 
got  your  things  off  yet?"  asked  Mrs.  White,  who  came 
forward  wrapped  in  a  long  flannel  gown  placed  over  her 
nightgown,  her  feet  thrust  into  a  pair  of  bedroom  slippers. 
"  I'm  not  a  bit  sleepy;  it's  that  coffee  at  dinner.  I  won't 
drink  any  more  of  it.  James  is  fast  asleep;  I  declare  it 
don't  take  a  man  but  half  a  minute  to  undress,  and  the 
other  half  to  go  to  sleep." 

Mrs.  White  curled  up  in  a  large  chair,  and  laid  her 
cheek  against  the  back.  Her  years  of  society  life  had  not 
destroyed  her  desire  to  talk  over  every  dinner,  funeral, 
or  theater  that  she  attended.  Mr.  White,  who  was  a  good 
sleeper,  and  was  not  particularly  fond  of  society,  said  to 
his  talkative  wife  one  night  as  he  was  settling  himself  to 
sleep,  after  returning  from  a  dinner :  "  This  talking  parties 
over,  is  as  bad  as  having  to  go  to  them  twice;  if  you  can't 
stop  talking  things  over  after  we  get  home,  and  go  to  bed 
and  go  to  sleep,  we  better  give  up  going  out."  Poor 
Mrs.  White  never  offended  again  in  that  way,  and  she 
declared  that  one  of  the  comforts  of  having  her  sister  in 
the  house,  was  that  she  could  talk  things  over  with  her. 
Cautious  Marie  never  complained,  no  matter  how  late 
Mrs.  White  staid  in  her  room  at  night,  or  how  many  times 
she  was  compelled  to  lay  down  her  book  during  the  day. 

"Wasn't  that  a  splendid  play ?"  asked  Mrs.  White  as 
she  cuddled  herself  up  in  her  chair,  "  and  what  a  full 
house  'twas;  it  was  just  lovely.  Say,  Marie,  did  you  notice 
Mrs.  Lefarve  looking  at  you  ?" 

"No." 

"She  just  watched  you  all  of  the  time  after  Mr.  Latimer 
came  in  our  box.  When  he  came  back  from  speaking  to 


76  RODGER  LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 

ner,  I  looked  right  at  her,  and  she  saw  I  noticed  the  way 
she  stared  at  you,  and  she  stopped  it.  I  don't  believe 
she  looked  at  you  again." 

"  I  don't  know  why  she  should  stare  at  me,"  said  Marie. 

"  I  suppose  it  was  because  Mr.  Latimer  chose  to  come 
and  sit  with  us,  when  both  she  and  Mrs.  Richmond  had 
invited  him  to  their  boxes.  When  I  saw  those  other 
ushers,  I  was  dreadfully  afraid  he  wouldn't  come." 
Marie  said  nothing,  and  after  a  moment's  silence  Mrs. 
White  continued,  "What  a  lovely  dress  that  was  of  Mrs. 
Von  Stein's;  did  you  notice  it?" 

"No." 

"  It  was  lovely.  I  suppose  it  is  one  she  brought  back 
with  her,  she  has  splendid  taste  in  dress.  I  suppose  her 
dinner  next  week  will  be  an  elaborate  affair.  How  pale 
Ethel  Richmond  looked  to-night,  I  should  think  her 
mother  would  feel  anxious  about  her.  I  should,  if  she  was 
my  daughter.  Did  you  notice  how  well  Mr.  Bassett 
looked?" 

"No." 

"You  know  he  saw  the  midnight  sun,  and  was  in 
Spain  and  Algiers.  He  told  me  he  had  a  delightful  trip, 
perfect  weather  everywhere,  and  not  a  single  accident  or 
unpleasant  occurrence."  Mrs.  White  sat  in  silence  a 
short  time  looking  at  her  sister,  who  was  seated  before 
the  mirror,  brushing  her  back  hair.  After  a  little  she 
said:  "Marie,  you'll  take  cold  without  anything  over 
your  shoulders." 

"No,  I  think  not." 

"What's  the  matter  of  you  to-night?  didn't  you  have 
a  pleasant  time?  Seems  to  me  you're  not  very  happy," 
said  Mrs.  White,  giving  her  gown  a  tuck  around  her  feet. 

"Why  yes,  I  had  a  delightful  time,"  replied  Marie, 
rousing  herself  from  her  abstraction,  "and  I'm  sure  that 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


77 


I'm  happy.  I  think  we  had  a. charming  evening.  I  was 
delighted  with  everything." 

"  Was  Mr.  Latimer  as  agreeable  as  usual  ?  I  was  mort- 
ally afraid  that  James  would  go  to  talking  to  him  about 
his  old  iron.  Mr.  Latimer  don't  know  a  thing  about 
iron,  and  then  I  wished  you  to  have  a  chance  of  talking 
with  him.  Isn't  he  a  handsome  man?" 

"Yes,  he  is  handsome,"  replied  Marie,  "and  he  is  very 
unlike  these  other  men  who  have  been  in  society  so  long. 
It's  a  positive  pleasure  to  meet  a  man  of  his  enthusiasm. 
Mr.  Whitridge  and  Mr.  Bassett,  and  all  of  them  are  so 
mechanical,  they  say  everything  in  a  mechanical  way, 
just  as  though  they  had  been  saying  that  same  thing,  in 
that  same  way,  for  fifty  years.  If  they  express  any  en- 
thusiasm, it  is  so  evidently  assumed,  it  only  increases  the 
artificial  impression." 

"  I  think  you're  a  pretty  severe  critic  Marie;  all  of  those 
are  agreeable  men.  You  must  remember  that  Mr.  Lati- 
mer's-much  younger  than  they  are.  I  don't  believe  there's 
as  young  a  man  in  society  as  he." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Marie,  "as  it  is  possible  to  be 
born  in  society,  and  live  in  it,  without  losing  the  last 
spark  of  spontaneity  one  has.  The  souls  of  some  of 
these  people  we  meet,  have  been  in  society  for  gen- 
erations. Some  physiologist  says  that  a  person  can  inherit 
mental  discipline.  I  wonder  if  they  can't  also  inherit 
ennui,  and  be  born  blase." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Marie,  "said  Mrs.  White, 
looking  at  her  sister  as  though  she  questioned  whether 
she  was  in  her  right  mind  or  not. 

"  I  mean,"  explained  Marie,  "  that  Mr.  Latimer  is,  what 
half  a  dozen  of  the  unmarried  men  who  visit  here,  wish 
they  were,  and  pretend  they  are.  He  really  enjoys  life, 
from  his  cup  of  coffee  in  the  morning,  to  that  good-night 


78  RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE 

at  the  carriage  door,  at  midnight  When  he  talks  to 
you,  he  don't  have  to  throw  his  soul  in  his  eyes,  as  Mr. 
Whitridge  does,  for  it's  already  there;  and  what  a  differ- 
ence it  does  make." 

"  But  you  ought  to  remember  that  this  is  all  new  to  Mr. 
Latimer,"  said  Mrs.  White;  "  neither  his  father  nor  grand- 
father had  money. " 

"  I  should  suppose  he  was  well  born." 

41  Oh,  the  Latimers  are  a  good  family,  a  splendid  family. 
Professor  McVey  told  me  all  about  them  one  day,  when 
I  was  in  Edgewood.  He  and  Rodger's  father  were  great 
friends,  but  you  see  this  wealth  and  society  is  new  to  Mr. 
Latimer  " 

"  He  has  traveled,"  said  Marie,  "  and  is  really  the  best, 
the  most  thoroughly  educated  man  I  have  met  in  Clinton." 

"I  don't  mean  that,"  replied  Mrs.  White;  "it's  this 
society  that's  new  to  him.  He's  studied  all  of  his  life,  and 
seen  no  society  outside  of  Edgewood,  and  you've  no  idea 
what  a  washed  out  set  they  are,  only  they  never  had  any 
color  to  wash  out. "  Marie  made  no  reply  as  she  brushed 
her  dark  chestnut  hair,  looking  into  the  mirror  with  a 
preoccupied  air.  Every  few  minutes  she  would  give  the 
mass  of  hair  a  few  twists,  then  shake  it  out,  and  continue 
the  brushing. 

"  I  presume  this  is  a  new  life  to  Mr.  Latimer,"  pursued 
Mrs.  White;  "you  never  could  know  Marie,  how  delight- 
ful this  city  life  was  to  me,  for  two  years  after  I  was 
married.  It  did  seem  as  though  this  world  was  too  beau- 
tiful. I  couldn't  get  used  to  it.  I  saw  other  people  didn't 
feel  as  I  did  about  it,  and  I  tried  not  to  show  it,  for  I 
knew  they  had  had  it  always.  I  used  to  shut  myself  in 
my  room,  and  back  away  from  the  mirror,  and  walk  up  to 
it,  looking  at  my  dresses.  It  did  seem  so  good  to  wear 
a  dress  that  I  hadn't  made  myself,  and  such  lovely  dresses, 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE  79 

that  cost  so  much.  And  then  to  drive  down  the  avenue 
in  my  own  carriage,  and  have  people  bow  to  me  from  the 
sidewalk!"  Mrs.  White  burst  into  a  laugh.  "It  seems 
too  ridiculous,  don't  it?" 

"  I  don't  see  anything  ridiculous  about  it,"  answered 
Marie,  "  it  was  natural — if  you  only  had  sense  enough  to 
keep  the  new  experience  to  yourself." 

"Oh,  I  did  that.  Sometimes  I  would  talk  a  little  to 
James,  and  he  would  laugh  just  as  though  it  pleased  him, 
especially  when  I  would  tell  him  that  we  must  not  spend 
so  much  money,  that  we  were  living  too  fast,  and  he 
would  be  ruined  if  we  weren't  more  economical.  But  it 
did  seem  to  me  that  first  year  as  though  no  one  could 
stand  such  a  constant  outlay  of  money,  it  took  my  breath 
away.  After  a  while  1  got  used  to  it,  and  then  how 
natural  and  matter-of-course  it  all  was." 

Marie  brushed  away  at  her  hair  in  silence.  Presently 
Mrs.  White  exclaimed:  "What  a  handsome  girl  you  are, 
Marie!  I  declare  a  girl  who  has  such  shoulders  and 
arms  as  you  have,  ought  to  have  the  credit  of  them.  It's 
too  bad  that  James  makes  such  a  fuss  about  low  necks." 

"  I  don't  care  to  wear  low  necks  or  short  sleeves,"  said 
Marie,  as  she  passed  her  left  hand  down  her  bare  right 
arm,  from  shoulders  to  wrist.  "  Miss  Johnson  fits  me 
well." 

"I  should  think  she  did!  I  was  looking  at  you  to- 
night, that  white  dress  fits  you  beautifully,  not  a  wrinkle 
in  it.  You  looked  beautiful  to-night;  what  will  you  wear 
to-morrow  ?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  I  want  you  to  look  your  best.  Alice  McClure  has  a  fine 
figure,  but  it's  nothing  to  yours!  Say  Marie,  I've  just 
thought  of  something.  Mr.  Latimer  must  take  a  part  in 
our  play;  he  would  make  a  perfect  Rubo,  to  your  Ardano. 


8o  RODGER    LATIN!  ER'S    MISTAKE 

Won't  that  be  delightful?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  White  enthus- 
iastically starting  up,  and  untangling  her  feet  from  the 
long  woolen  gown;  "  it  is  strange  I  never  thought  of  it 
before." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  replied  Marie.  "I  don't 
know  as  I  wish  to  act  in  a  play  with  him." 

"But  you  will  have  to  take  the  part  of  Ardano,  you 
said  you  would,  and  Mrs.  Von  Stein  and  Mrs.  Richmond 
would  never  forgive  you  if  gave  it  up." 

"I  don't  intend  to  give  it  up,"  said  Marie,  "but  I 
don't  know  about  Mr.  Latimer  taking  the  character  of 
Rubo.  I  should  have  to  think  about  that." 

"You  know  they  all  said  you  might  make  your  choice 
of  a  Rubo. " 

"Yes,"  replied  Marie,  "but  you  know  as  well  as  I  do, 
that  it  would  never  answer  for  me  to  express  the  least 
preference  in  the  affair.  I'm  the  only  girl  in  the  play,  and 
I  think  some  of  those  married  women  look  upon  me  as  a 
sort  of  intruder  any  way.  When  Mr.  Lefarve  cast  the 
play,  I  think  several  .of  the  ladies  were  dissatisfied;  you 
see  Ardano  is  a  prominent  character.  I  think  several 
wished  for  it." 

"You're  mistaken,  Marie;  Mrs.  Von  Stein  and  Mrs. 
Lefarve  are  intimate  friends,  and  Mr.  Lefarve  very  likely 
had  gone  over  every  character  with  Mrs.  Von  Stein, 
before  he  gave  them  out.  But  you  will  have  nothing  to 
do  with  it;  I  will  manage  it." 

"Don't  let  it  be  decided  for  a  week  at  least,"  said 
Marie,  "then  I'll  tell  you." 

"Bless  me,"  said  Mrs.  White  getting  out  of  her  nest  in 
the  big  chair,  "how  late  we  are  talking,  and  we  shall 
have  to  be  up  late  to-morrow  night."  She  leaned  over 
her  sister  and  kissed  her,  and  then  went  noiselessly  to  her 
room. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Rodger  Latimer  was  a  man  who  lived  in  the  present.  , 
Present  gratification  appealed  much  more  strongly  to 
his  nature — which  was  a  poetical,  sensuous  one — than  did 
future  consequences.  He  was  logical- and  well  balanced, 
yet  the  esthetical  luxuriousness  of  wealthy  society,  pos- 
sessed a  subtle  charm  for  him,  which  it  would  have  been 
impossible  for  him  to  have  accounted  for,  even  to  himself. 
As  Mrs.  White  said,  society  life  was  a  new  experience  to 
him.  In  Harvard  he  had  known  young  men,  at  least  the 
best  of  them,  in  Edgewood  he  had  known  mature  scholars. 
As  to  women,  he  did  not  remember  his  mother,  he  had  a 
more  than  conventional  acquaintance  with  Miss  Sargent — 
a  woman  forty-five  years  old,  the  sister  of  Judge  Sargent, 
a  bachelor,  with  whom  she  lived  in  the  quiet  elegance  in- 
herited wealth  made  possible — and  he  had  a  slight 
acquaintance  with  half  a  dozen  Clinton  ladies.  The  only 
woman  he  really  knew,  was  Margaret  McVey,  and  he  had 
never  cared  to  go  beneath  the  fascinations  of  her  personal 
attractions,  to  the  creative  forces  of  her  life,  and  gain  a 
knowledge  of  the  constituent  elements  of  her  character, 
those  potentialities  of  all  suffering  and  action  in  each  indi- 
vidual personality.  He  was  utterly  ignorant  of  the 
machinery  of  society  and  of  housekeeping.  He  was  an  in- 
tuitive, rather  than  a  critical,  jutige  of  the  furnishings  of 
a  room,  of  a  dinner  table,  or  the  completeness  of  a 
woman's  dress.  He  felt  rather  than  saw  harmonious  com- 
binations and  beautiful  effects,  and  the  artistic  costumes 
worn  by  Miss  Edwards,  that  he  ardently  admired,  were 
to  him  a  part  of  the  woman,  that  in  some  mysterious  way 
must  have  been  evolved  from  her  inner  consciousness. 
6  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake.  (81) 


82  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

It  was  to  him  as  though  she  simply  stood  and  was  clothed 
about,  with  soft  fabrics  that  clung  to  her  regal  form  in 
obedience  to  the  law  of  natural  selection.  As  the  uncon- 
scious lily  in  the  perfection  of  its  bloom  under  the  moon- 
light, so  she  stood  in  the  mornings,  in  the  soft  light  that 
came  through  the  buff-colored  shades  of  Mrs.  White's 
library  windows,  draped  in  clinging,  creamy  white:  or  as 
a  rose  in  its  glory  under  a  July  sun,  she  stood  in  the  flood 
of  gaslight,  wrapped  about  in  crimson,  that,  creeping  up 
from  the  trailing  folds  that  lay  in  glowing  circles  around 
her  feet,  passionately  encircled  her  waist  and  bust,  and 
threw  an  ardent  glow  over  the  clear  white  cheek,  and 
touched  the  chestnut  hair  with  an  added  warmth. 

After  his  return  from  the  theater  that  opening  night, 
Mr.  Latimer  sat  long  in  his  room  before  his  grate  fire. 
When  he  first  sat  down  in  gown  and  sl-ippers,  he  held  a 
lighted  cigar  between  his  lips,  but  it  soon  went  out,  and 
he  seemed  unconscious  of  the  fact,  as  he  lay  back  in  his 
chair,  gazing  at  times  into  the  fire,  then  looking  fixedly 
at  the  ceiling,  but  most  of  the  time  sitting  motionless 
with  closed  eyes.  Every  sense  had  been  gratified  that 
evening;  every  nerve  had  thrilled  with  pleasurable  sen- 
sations. After  a  little  he  laid  his  cigar  on  the  table  by 
his  side  and  took  up  Miss  Edwards'  rose  that  was  lying 
there,  and  as  he  leaned  back  again  in  the  chair  he  placed  the 
rose  to  his  lips  and  gave  himself  up  to  a  delightful  reverie. 
In  imagination  he  saw  Marie  Edwards  as  plainly  as  when 
he  sat  by  her  side  an  hour  before;  he  was  gazing  on  her 
face  and  watched  her  quivering  eyelids  slowly  rise,  and 
his  pulse  kept  time  to  their  motion,  faster  and  faster,  as 
the  eyelids  rose  higher;  then  the  one  challenging,  yield- 
ing, thrilling  flash,  and  he  opened  his  lips  to  breathe,  as 
the  eyelashes  instantly  lay  upon  the  white  cheek  again. 
The  rounded  throat,  the  soft  line  under  the  ear,  the  reg- 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  83 

ular  rise  and  fall  of  the  Juno  bust,  were  all  before  him, 
and  the  sight  drove  the  blood  tumultuously  through  his 
veins.  "There  never  was  such  a  woman  before,"  he 
thought.  "  How  unlike  all  other  women,  how  different 
from  Margaret  McVey. "  With  the  thought  of  Margaret 
McVey,  he  suddenly  opened  his  eyes,  and  sat  bolt  up- 
right. 

"  I  declare  I  must  write  to  that  girl,"  he  said  aloud ;  "  it's 
a  week  or  more  since  I  have  written."  It  had  been  over 
three  weeks  since  his  last  letter.  He  laid  the  rose  on  the 
table  at  his  side,  crossed  his  legs,  and  leaned  forward,  rest- 
ing one  arm  on  his  knee  as  he  gazed  into  the  fire.  "  Con- 
found it,  I  wish  I  wasn't  engaged,"  he  thought;  "a  man 
has  no  business  to  engage  himself  before  he  knows  all 
sorts  of  women.  What  a  figure  Marie  Edwards  has!  I 
wonder  if  Margaret  knows  of  this  money  that  Uncle  Gill 
left  me;  yes,  I  wrote  her  about  it — no,  I  don't  know  as  I 
did;  I  wonder  if  I  did?  I  declare  I  don't  believe  I  have 
written  her  as  often  as  I  ought  to,  but  she  always  told  me 
never  to  make  a  duty  of  writing,  if  I  didn't  write  from 
one  six  months  to  another.  She  don't  care  for  money, 
she  don't  like  theaters,  or  dinners,  or  society.  How  beau- 
tiful Miss  Edwards  looked  at  Mrs.  Bassett's!  I'm  going 
to  the  McClures  with  her;  how  much  she  adds  to  a 
dinner;  tea  at  five;  I  hope  there'll  be  no  one  there;  how 
delightful  Clinton  society  is!  I  wonder  if  there  is  any 
better  in  the  United  States.  I  don't  believe  there  is  in 
Boston  or  New  York.  I  wonder  if  Paris  or  London  are 
better?  Whitridge  didn't  like  London  last  summer.  I 
don't  know  much  of  Europe;  never  have  been  there  unless 
Margaret  McVey  was  with  me.  What  an  idiot  I  was! 
Margaret  wouldn't  like  Paris  or  London:  what  a  queen  in 
society  Miss  Edwards  is?  What  eyes!"  Rodger  Latimer 
faintly  smiled,  and  closed  his  own  eyes;  he  was  again 


84  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

lost  in  an  enchanted  world;  he  retained  no  connected 
thought,  no  distinct  memory,  but  was  wrapped  in  the 
witchery  of  a  spell  that  obliterated  the  past  with  any 
obligation  it  might  contain,  and  that  did  not  evoke  from 
the  future  any  embarrassing  complications  of  situations, 
that  might  demand  an  explanation  or  decision  from  him- 
self. He  was  aware  of  nothing  besides  a  satisfying  pres- 
ent. At  the  expiration  of  half  an  hour,  he  quietly  rose 
and  prepared  for  bed.  His  last  thought  as  he  dropped  off 
to  sleep  was  of  Marie  Edwards,  of  the  tea  with  her  the 
next  day,  and  the  long  evening  to  be  passed  in  her  pres- 
ence afterward. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

True  to  her  word,  Mrs.  White  managed  the  affair  with 
such  adroitness,  that  Mrs.  Von  Stein  thought  the  idea  of 
Mr.  Latimer's  eminent  fitness  for  the  part  of  Rubo,  in  her 
forthcoming  play,  originated  in  her  own  mind.  She  sent 
him  a  note,  asking  him  to  come  and  see  her. 

"You  know,  Mr.  Latimer, "  she  said,  when  seated  in  her 
drawing-room  with  him,  "we  wish  a  man  of  quickness, 
and  of  adaptation,  and  withal,  one  of  leisure." 

When  Mr.  Latimer  assured  her  that  it  would  give  him 
great  pleasure  to  serve  the  ladies  in  any  possible  way, 
but  that  he  doubted  his  ability,  and  suggested  his  friend 
Mr.  'Whitrjdge,  as  a  man  who  had  experience  in  amateur 
theatricals,  she  would  not  hear  to  it. 

"No,  no,"  she  said,  "we  wish  you  to  take  the  part  of 
Rubo.  Then  Mr.  Whitridge  is  the  lover,  you  know,  your 
sister  Ardano's  lover,  and  you  are  tn'e  watchful  brother. 
I'ts  so  funny  where  you  drag  Mr.  Lefarve  off  of  Mr. 
Whitridge.  You'd  just  die  to  see  Mr.  Lefarve;  he  flies  at 
Mr.  Whitridge  as  though  he  would  kill  him,  and  Mr. 
Lefarve  is  such  a  peculiar  looking  man,  thoroughly  French 
looking,  he  would  really  make  a  better  Italian  than  Mr. 
Whitridge.  I  declare  we  ought  to  have  those  parts 
changed.  I  fear  Mr.  Lefarve  made  a  mistake  there  in 
his  casting,  don't  you  think  so  ?  You  have  the  most  con- 
spicuous part  in  the  play.  " 

"What  is  the  play?     I  haven't  seen  it  yet." 

"Then  you  have  your  lines  to  commit,"  said  Mrs.  Von 
Stein,  taking  a' copy  of  the  play  from  the  pile  that  lay  on 
the  sofa  beside  her,  and  handing  it  to  Mr.  Latimer.  "It's 
a  lovely  play,  full  of  hits.  Mr.  Lefarve  translated  and 

85 


86  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

adapted  it  specially  for  us. "  It  was  a  French  society  play, 
one  of  those  intensely  intellectual  productions,  that  are  con- 
sidered capable  of  repaying  days  of  study  and  numberless 
rehearsals.  There  was  in  it,  an  indiscreet  young  wife  and 
jealous  husband,  a  handsome  Italian  tenor,  who  fell  in 
love  with  the  wife,  and  then  followed  a  succession  of 
tragi-comic  situations,  where  fortuitous  circumstances 
brought  the  wife  and  Italian  into  association,  wholly 
unpremeditated  and  unlocked  for,  on  the  part  of  the  wife, 
that  aroused  the  most  irrational  jealousy  in  the  young 
husband,  who  was  personated  by  Mr.  Lefarve.  In  one  scene 
he  nearly  choked  the  Italian  to  death,  but  explanations 
from  the  wife,  and  a  promise  from  the  handsome  tenor  to 
exile  himself  from  the  country  of  the  married  pair,  saved 
his  life.  The  hysterical  wife  fell  into  the  arms  of  the 
appeased  husband,  and  the  curtain  dropped,  after  general 
harmony  had  been  created  by  a  full  understanding  of  the 
innocence  of  all  parties,  except  that  of  the  inflammable, 
susceptible  singer,  who  consented  to  an  eternal  exile  from 
American  shores.  Rodger  Latimer,  in  the  character  of 
Rubo,  the  brother  of  the  indiscreet  wife,  was  always 
hovering  over  his  sister's  path  as  a  guardian  angel,  full  of 
advice  and  assistance.  He  was  ubiquitous  on  the  stage, 
appearing  always  at  the  right  moment,  even  standing 
between  his  sister  and  any  misconstruction  that  society 
might  put  on  her  conduct.  He  flew  from  the  infuriated 
husband  to  the  infatuated  lover,  intent  upon  explaining 
questionable  appearances,  and  convincing  the  husband  of 
the  guilelessness  of  his  wife's  nature.  And  through  all  of 
his  sister's  thoughtless  conduct,  and  the  unfortunate  cir- 
cumstances that  surrounded  her,  he  succeeded  in  protecting 
her  from  gossip,  without  wounding  her  by  severe  criticism, 
or  curtailing  her  social  pleasures  by  any  over-cautious 
restraint. 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  87 

Mr.  Latimer  set  himself  to  learn  his  part  in  the  play, 
in  the  odd  moments  that  he  could  catch  between  his 
social  engagements.  He  frequently  met  Miss  Edwards, 
scarcely  a  day  passing  without  his  seeing  her  for  a  few 
moments,  at  least.  Sometimes  it  would  be  for  only  a  few 
moments  in  a  bookstore,  or  he  would  ride  beside  her 
carriage  as  she  was 'out  for  a  drive.  Owing  to  Mrs. 
White's  great  kindness,  he  found  himself  a  frequently- 
invited  guest  to  her  house.  The  winter  was  not  far 
advanced  before  in  some  way,  he  could  hardly  tell  how  it 
came  about,  his  Sunday  dinners  were  taken  at  her  house. 
He  feared  at  times  that  he  might  be  trespassing  upon  her 
hospitality,  and  one  day  when  he  intimated  as  much,  Mrs. 
White,  in  a  dear  motherly  way,  said  to  him: 

"What  in  the  world  should  you  go  back  to  your  lonely 
room  for?  Professor  McVey  will  never  forgive  me  if  I 
don't  look  after  you;  we'll  have  some  music  after  dinner 
if  you'll  stay;  Marie  and  Polly  will  sing  for  us." 

The  name  of  McVey  was  fast  losing  its  power  to  dis- 
turb him.  How  far  off  Edgewood  seemed!  McVey?  yes, 
and  his  father  who  had  been  dead  for  years,  used  to  live  in 
Edgewood.  Hazy  as  an  incoherent  memory,  was  that  old 
life,  as  he  glanced  at  the  queenly  girl  sitting  in  the  bay- 
window,  with  a  halo  of  yellow  glory  around  her,  thrown 
from  the  southern  sun  through  the  buff  shades.  One  flash 
from  those  grand  eyes  destroyed  his  past,  and  left  him  no 
desire  for  a  future;  the  present  held  for  him  the  fullness 
of  life,  and  it  was  a  measureless,  unfathomable  fullness. 
Mrs.  White  had  cordial  allies  in  her  efforts  to  keep  Mr. 
Latimer  for  Sunday  afternoons,  in  her  husband  and  two 
little  daughters,  Polly  and  Dora,  girls  of  six  and  eight 
years  of  age.  Mr.  White  was  not  much  of  a  talker,  he 
was  too  heavily  weighted  to  be  loquacious,  his  soul  having 
chained  to  it  an  iron  furnace,  and  a  wholesale  hardware 


88  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

store.  But  he  frequently  would  rouse  himself  from  his 
corner  on  the  sofa,  and  supplement  Mrs.  White's  invi- 
tation. 

"  Better  stay,  Latimer, "  he  would  say,  "  if  you  care  for 
the  lives  of  these  two  women.  They  don't  know  what  to  do 
with  themselves  after  coming  from  church." 

The  two  little  girls  were  put  to  bed  at  eight  o'clock, 
and  saw  very  little  of  any  guests  who  might  be  in  the 
house  to  dinner  on  week  days,  when  the  family  dined  at 
night.  But  two  o'clock  was  the  Sunday  hour  for  dinner, 
and  Mr.  White  insisted  on  having  his  children  with  him, 
the  only  day  of  the  week  that  he  was  at  home,  so  Sunday 
afternoon  was  a  sort  of  family  gala  day,  directed  and 
ruled  over  by  the  two  little  girls.  Mr.  Latimer,  and  Polly 
and  Dora,  were  the  best  of  friends,  and  when  he  was  there 
on  Sunday,  they  claimed  from  him  one  story  at  least, 
which  he  usually  related  to  them,  as  they  sat  on  his  knees, 
with  their  arms  around  his  neck.  The  little  girls  were 
not  the  only  ones  entertained  at  such  times.  Mrs.  White 
would  sit  near  by,  delighted  with  the  delight  of  the  chil- 
dren, and  even  Lundom  James  White — whom  business 
men  called  the  closest  old  screw  in  the  State;  so  sharp, 
there  was  nothing  to  be  made  by  doing  business  with  him, 
as  he  knew  just  when  he  got  a  man  screwed  down  to  the 
last  sixteenth  of  a  cent  profit — this  hard  business  man  would 
listen  to  every  word  of  the  story,  with  a  tender  smile  on 
his  prematurely  wrinkled  face,  watching  his  little  girls  as 
trrey  sat  so  still,  with  their  eyes  fixed  intently  upon  Mr. 
Latimer,  who  observed  with  pleasure  that  Marie  Edwards' 
attention  was  also  fixed  upon  him,  and  his  two  absorbed 
listeners,  for  whom  he  recollected  or  improvised  a  story. 
He  little  thought,  however,  that  Miss  Edwards  was  equally 
indifferent  to  the  children's  pleasure,  and  to  the  fate  of 
the  fairy  who  visited  the  sun  to  gather  a  basket  full  of 


•  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  89 

beautiful  gifts  for  good  little  girls.  Marie  Edwards  was 
building  a  palace  of  her  own,  and  on  more  solid  founda- 
tions than  fairy  gifts.  She  was  always  glad  when  the 
children  had  been  taken  up  stairs  to  bed,  releasing  her 
prince  from  the  thraldom  of  their  arms,  to  devote  himself 
to  her.  It  was  Mr.  Latimer,  who  was  very  fond  of  chil- 
dren, that  took  the  little  girls  up  stairs  on  Sunday  nights, 
perched  on  his  strong  shoulders,  their  four  arms  clinging 
to  his  head,  the  children  filling  the  house  with  screams  of 
laughter,as  he  pinched  their  dangling  legs  on  the  way.  Had 
it  ever  occurred  to  Mr.  Latimer  to  inquire  why  they  were 
never  interrupted  by  visitors,  Sunday  evening,  in  a  house 
that  was  rarely  without  visitors,  the  butler  could  have  told 
him,  that  Mrs.  White  had  given  orders  that  the  family 
should  be  excused  to  all  who,  came,  on  Sunday  evenings 
whenever  Mr.  Latimer  was  ther,e,  unless  some  special 
friend  of  Mr.  White's  called,  and  then  he  was  to  be  taken 
to  Mr.  White.'s  private  room.  It  frequently  happened 
that  such  a  friend  did  call,  an  old-time,  or  business 
friend,  and  then  Mr.  White  would  leave  the  library  for 
his  own  room.  It  also  frequently  happened,  that  soon 
after  Mr.  White  had  gone  from  the  library  on  such  Sunday 
evenings,  a  maid  would  enter  with  a  message  from  the 
nurse,  that  the  children  wished  to  see  their  mother  in  the 
nursery.  These  happenings  would  frequently  leave  Mr. 
Latimer  ^lone  with  Miss  Edwards,  in  the  large  quiet 
library,  where  he  would  sometimes  read  aloud  to  her, 
and  sometimes  she  would  read  to  him.  He  never  sat  near 
her,  but  was  content  to  rest  in  the  atmosphere  of  her 
presence,  gazing  upon  the  face  and  form  of  the  peerless 
creature  in  white,  and  to  wait  patiently  for  the  uplifting 
of  those  grand  eyelids  to  disclose  the  light  they  hid. 
He  never  thought  of  how  little  she  talked  when  they  were 
alone  together;  the  hours  seemed  to  him  wanting  in  noth- 


go  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

ing.  The  inspiration  of  her  listening  face  awakened  the 
best  there  was  in  him,  and  he" talked  a  great  deal  of 
books,  and  of  art,  and  of  life.  At  times  his  mentaJ 
excitement  carried  him  into  waters  far  beyond  her  depth, 
and  he  enlarged  upon  the  relation  of  nation  to  nation, 
the  development  which  the  race  was  working  out  for  it- 
self, and  the  probable  beautiful  outcome  of  all  tangled 
human  affairs.  She  listened  to  all  that  he  said  with 
eager  attention,  as  though  she  feared  to  lose  one  word 
that  fell  from  his  lips.  How  beautiful  she  looked  to  him, 
with  the  constant  play  of  rising  and  falling  eyelids,  her 
whole  being  seemingly  absorbed  in  the  thought  to  which 
he  gave  utterance.  Had  Rodger  Latimer  been  told  that 
he  was  living  in  an  imaginary  world,  fashioned  and  im- 
pressed by  his  own  excited  mind,  that  his  infatuation  was  a 
sensuous  one,  and  that  Marie  Edwards  was  playing  a  part, 
he  would  have  accused  the  speaker  of  blasphemy,  and  smit- 
ten him  in  a  white  heat.  He  said  to  himself,  again  and 
again,  that  he  loved  Marie  Edwards,  and  that  he  never 
had  loved  Margaret  McVey.  This  was  the  first  delirium  of 
his  life,  and  he  called  it  the  first  love.  It  would  have 
been  useless  for  any  one  to  have  told  him,  that  he  vastly 
overrated  Miss  Edwards'  beauty  of  person,  and  warmth 
of  nature;  he  could  no  more  correctly  estimate  her  qual- 
ities of  person  or  mind,  than  could  the  man  with  senses 
dulled,  and  faculties  stimulated  into  supernatural  intensity 
by  a  dose  of  hasheesh,  estimate  correctly  the  length  of  the 
passing  minute,  or  the  relative  size  of  objects  within  his 
view.  He  did  attempt  to  reason  regarding  his  relation 
to  Margaret,  but  made  a  sad  jumble  of  it.  He  said  to 
himself,  not  only  that  he  did  not  love  her,  but  also  that  he 
could  not  marry  her;  he  declared  to  himself  that  he  did 
love  Marie  Edwards,  but  there  he  stopped.  That  he 
loved  her  was  enough.  All  of  his  life  centered  in  the 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  91 

present  hour  in  her  presence,  and  he  was  never  from  under 
her  influence,  for  his  ardent  imagination  took  with  him 
as  he  went  forth  from  her  bodily  presence,  each  line  of 
form,  and  sweep  of  eyelid,  each  quiver  of  lip,  and  elec- 
tric flash  of  brown  eyes.  He  felt  that  Margaret  was  an 
intruder,  that  not  even  a  thought  of  her  ought  to  come 
within  the  magic  circle,  where  he  and  Marie  Edwards 
stood  alone.  Sometimes  he  would  sit  down  to  his  table, 
to  seriously  think  of  his  irksome  relation  to  Margaret, 
usually  on  the  receipt  of  a  letter  from  her,  in  answer  to  one 
of  his  own,  for  he  continued  to  write  to  her  at  long  inter- 
vals. His  letters  were  short,  and  contained  nothing  regard- 
ing his  own  personal  life,  neither  of  his  inner  world  of 
thought  and  feeling,  or  of  his  relation  to  society,  but  such 
length  as  he  gave  them,  was  spun  out  by  comments  on  ser- 
mons, theaters,  and  books,  or  descriptions  of  pictures. 
They  were  such  letters  as  might  have  passed  between  two 
people  for  ten  years,  and  given  no  more  knowledge  of  the 
individual  writers  to  each  other,  than  would  the  same  num- 
ber of  lines  cut  from  a  daily  paper,  and  sent  in  an  envel- 
ope. When  he  did  set  himself  to  look  over  matters,  he  usu- 
ally ended  about  where  he  began;  with  thinking  that  he 
must  say  something  to  her  of  his  state  of  mind  sometime, 
but  not  now;  that  there  was  time  enough  in  the  future  to 
straighten  the  affair  out.  At  this  stage  of  his  thinking, 
he  was  apt  to  slip  her  letters  into  his  table  drawer, 
relegate  her  personality  to  oblivion,  for  another  period  of 
blissful  weeks.  It  was  but  natural  that  as  his  feeling 
grew  more  ardent  toward  Marie  Edwards,  Margaret  should 
fade  out  of  his  life  until  she  almost  ceased  to  be  to  him  a 
living  being.  Only  when  he  wrote  her  a  few  lines,  or 
received  a  reply,  did  she  assume  the  reality  of  a  flesh  and 
blood  girl,  to  whom  he  was  engaged  to  be  married;  and 
then  he  often  became  irritated  and  resentful  in  his  feel- 


92  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

ings,  as  though  his  recognition  of  their  engagement,  was 
asserting  a  claim  to  a  relationship  to  which  she  had  no 
natural  right.  He  argued  to  himself,  that  if  she  could  only 
be  made  to  see  the  eternal  fitness  of  things,  she  probably 
would  regard  herself  as  some  unfortunately  misplaced 
body,  and  would  gladly  take  herself  out  of  the  way,  any- 
where, only  that  she  cause  no  disturbance  in  the  beautiful 
harmony  of  those  spiritual  laws,  that  control  the  move- 
ments of  human  hearts  in  the  heaven  of  love.  Had  he 
been  called  upon  to  analyze  this  feeling  of  resentment, 
which  he  certainly  felt  toward  her,  he  probably  would 
have  declared  it  to  be  a  revolt  of  his  being,  from  unhar- 
monious  environment,  instead  of  acknowledging  it  as  an 
old-fashioned  stirring  of  conscience.  But  neither  thought 
of  her,  or  feelings  toward  her,  came  with  any  frequency 
to  him,  so  engrossed  was  he  by  the  beautiful  life  that 
surrounded  him.  His  health  had  never  been  injured  by 
dissipation,  or  injudicious  study,  his  tastes  were  cultivated 
and  an  ardent  temperament  whetted  his  appetite  for  every 
pleasure,  and  to  these  pleasures  he  yielded  himself  with- 
out reservation.  A  month's  absence  from  Marie  Edwards 
would  have  restored  the  equilibrium  of  his  nature,  and 
a  few  weeks  of  solitary  reflection,  necessitated  either  by 
sickness,  or  an  absence  from  society,  would  have  given 
him  a  just  estimate  of  the  men  and  women  about  him, 
and  of  his  relation  to  them.  But  he  saw  Marie  Edwards 
every  day,  and  spent  most  of  his  waking  hours  amid  the 
soft  illusions  of  social  amusements  and  entertainments. 


CHAPTER  X. 

One  Saturday  evening,  the  members  of  the  Amateur 
Club  met  at  Mrs.  Von  Stein's  for  a  rehearsal  in  her  man- 
sard theater.  It  was  the  first  rehearsal  that  Mr.  Latimer 
had  been  able  to  attend,  so  pressing  were  his  social 
engagements.  None  of  the  actors  had  committed  their 
lines  perfectly,  and  the  books,  which  all  had  declared  at 
the  previous  rehearsal,  should  be  laid  aside  this  evening, 
had  to  be  called  into  requisition,  much  to  the  disappoint- 
ment of  the  managers.  They  all  did  the  best  they  could, 
but  there  was  no  attempt  to  carry  out  the  details  of  the 
play,  and  the  rehearsal  was,  after  all,  but  little  more  than 
a  careful  reading  of  the  individual  parts,  under  the  man- 
ager's critical  direction.  There  was  some  attempt  at 
grouping,  and  some  little  acting,  in  the  simplest  scenes, 
but  nothing  was  thorough  of  finished.  Mr.  Latimer, 
with  book  in  hand,  followed  out  to  the  last  detail,  the 
part  of  each  man  and  woman  as  they  successively  passed 
through  the  manager's  hands.  He  closely  observed,  not 
only  what  each  did  and  said  on  that  night  of  partial 
rehearsal,  but  what  they  would  do  and  say,  when  the 
characters  as  they  had  been  cast,  were  acted  in  all  par- 
ticulars as  designated  in  the  copy  of  "  Parlor  Theat- 
ricals," which  he  held  in  his  hand.  He  carefully  scanned 
each  situation  Miss  Edwards  would  be  placed  in,  when 
she  acted  the  part  of  Mr.  Lefarve's  giddy  wife,  who  by 
her  beauty  and  vivacity,  inspired  the  Italian  tenor — Mr. 
Whitridge — with  a  tragic  passion  for  her.  No  one  beside 
Miss  Edwards,  who  never  lost  an  expression  or  action  of 
Mr.  Latimer's  when  they  were  together,  noticed  his  criti- 
cal observance,  or  the  expression  of  displeasure  that  at 
times  rested  upon  his  countenance. 
93 


94  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"I  shall  hope  to  see  you  to-morrow,  Miss  Edwards," 
he  said  as  .he  bade  her  good-night.  "  Mrs.  White  has  again 
kindly  invited  me  to  spend  the  day  with  her." 

The  next  evening  as  they  were  sitting  alone  together, 
Mr.  Latimer  turned  the  conversation  on  the  forthcoming 
play,  of  which  he  and  Miss  Edwards  had  never  befoie 
spoken  to  each  other. 

"These  amateur  theatricals  are  new  to  me,"  he  said. 

"And  to  me  also,"  replied  Miss  Edwards. 

"  Have  you  never  taken  part  in  one  before?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  she  replied,  but  she  said  nothing  farther,  for 
she  felt  that  there  was  something  back  of  Mr.  Latimer's 
serious  tone,  which  she  did  not  understand,  and  she  was 
afraid  to  do  more  than  follow  his  lead,  until  she  could 
get  hold  of  his  underlying  thought  or  purpose. 

"  Mrs.  Von  Stein  seemed  disappointed  that  we  did  not 
know  our  parts,"  said  Mr.  Latimer. 

"Yes,  I  fear  she  was,"  replied  cautious  Miss  Edwards. 
"  Mrs.  Von  Stein  has  been  very  kind,  and  has  given  a 
great  deal  of  time  to  this  play;  really  she  and  Mr.  Le- 
farve  were  the  originators  of  the  whole  thing." 

Mr.  Latimer  sat  in  silence  looking  at  the  chestnut  head, 
and  drooping  eyelids.  After  a  little  he  said: 

"  It  strikes  me  that  this  is  rather  a  peculiar  play,  but 
perhaps  my  ignorance  of  French  parlor  plays  may  ac- 
count for  the  unpleasant  impression  that  this  one  has 
made  on  me." 

Miss  Edwards  made  no  reply;  she  was  fearful  she  might 
not  say  the  right  thing  if  she  spoke;  and  concluded  that 
it  was  safest  for  her  to  say  nothing.  After  a  few  moments 
'Mr.  Latimer  continued:  "Yet,  this  play  is  not  one-half 
as  objectionable  as  some  that  we  all  go  to  see  at  the 
theater;  many  of  which,  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  say,  I 
exceedingly  dislike.  I  can  understand  why  Marie  Laur- 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  95 

ent  refuses  to  play  any  maternal  part,  that  is  not  sweet 
and  noble.  She  will  not  personate  a  cruel  or  a  tyran- 
nical, or  a  selfish  mother,  and  she  is  right.  When  the 
word  mother  has  become  a  synonym  for  tenderness  and 
forbearance  and  unselfishness,  why  should  the  few  abnor- 
mal instances  of  selfishness  and  wickedness,  be  typified 
upon  the  stage,  to  outrage  our  sense  of  justice?  And  it 
is  the  same  with  the  other  relations  of  life,  especially  so 
that  of  wife;  if  there  are  a  few  monstrosities  holding 
that  relation,  who  have  no  sense  of  the  sacredness  of  their 
duties,  why  should  these  moral  distortions  be  forced  upon 
us,  any  more  than  painful  physical  distortions?  The 
moral  sense  is  as  much  outraged  and  pained  by  the  one, 
as  the  sympathies  are  taxed,  and  the  esthetical  nature 
pained  by  the  other."  Mr.  Latimer  evinced  more  feeling 
as  he  spoke  than  he  was  aware  of. 

"  I  agree  with  you  perfectly,"  said  Miss  Edwards,  "  and 
I  am  glad  to  hear  you  speak  as  you  do." 

Mr.  Latimer's  face  flushed  with  pleasure:  "  I  hope  I  am 
not  narrow  regarding  the  drama,"  he  continued,  "I  have 
no  sympathy  with  the  tirade  indulged  in  by  the  clergy 
against  theaters;  I  think  we  go  to  the  theater  for  pleasure, 
not  instruction,  but  it  certainly  ought  to  be  a  pure  pleas- 
ure, not  a  demoralizing  one.  I  respect,  as  well  as  admire 
Modjeska,  she  is  a  lovely  woman,  but  I  wish  she  would 
select  different  plays  from  some  we  have  seen  her  in." 

"You  like  her  Rosalind?"  asked-Miss  Edwards. 

"  Yes,  and  her  Mary  Stuart,  which  is  as  perfect  a  piece 
of  acting  as  I  ever  saw.  But  to  think  that  the  woman 
who  can  come  upon  the  stage,  with  the  majestic  grand- 
eur of  her  Mary  Stuart,  should  debase  herself  to  the 
playing  of  Odette.  Her  Mary  Stuart  is  wonderful.  I 
never  fail  to  see  it,  when  I  am  where  she  is  playing  it." 

"  Do  you  consider  that  the  best  acting  you  ever  saw?" 
asked  Miss  Edwards. 


96  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

'  No — I  can  hardly  say  that;  nothing  can  surpass  Sal- 
vini's  Othello." 

"And  yet  Othello  is  a  cruel  husband,  who  kills  his 
wife,"  said  Miss  Edwards. 

"I  think  Salvini's  Othello,"  replied  Mr.  Latimer, 
"leaves  an  impression,  not  of  a  cruel  personality,  but 
rather  of  a  cruel  passion,  stalking  before  us,  in  all  of  its 
naked  hideousness;  the  last  shred  of  concealing  drapery 
torn  off.  It  is  just  a  thing  to  be  hated  and  condemned. 
Its  blind  fury  and  roaring  rage  may  have  an  element  of 
chilling  horror  in  them,  but  the  horror  we  feel,  is  akin  to 
that  with  which  we  beheld  a  violent  thunder  storm,  when 
the  lightning  twists  itself  through  the  black  clouds  and 
then  dashes  in  broad,  blazing  sheets  over  half  of  the 
heavens.  Salvini's  genius  lifts  the  passion  out  of  person- 
ality, and  the  man  is  nothing,  the  passion  everything." 

Miss  Edwards  was  listening  intently,  with  her  brown 
eyes  fully  opened,  fixed  upon  Mr.  Latimer's  face.  She 
was  a  flattering  audience,  and  as  Mr.  Latimer  looked  at 
her  he  forgot  Salvini,  and  for  the  time,  the  end  he  had 
in  view,  when  he  turned  the  conversation  upon  theaters 
and  actors.  Presently  he  resumed:  "  But  all  of  this  is  very 
different,"  he  said,  "  from  some  of  Modjeska's  plays;  even 
she  has  not,  no  one  can  have,  genius  enough  to  rid  them- 
selves of  the  abhorrent  personality  which  they  sometimes 
represerit.  The  fact  is,  the  personality  is  about  all  there  is 
in  some  of  these  objectionable  plays,  for  they  are  written 
with  no  genius.  And  right  here  is  the  difficulty  with 
these  silly  parlor  theatricals;  they  are  adroitly  written 
perhaps,  but  with  no  talent,  and  they  cannot  be  acted 
with  any  power.  They  may  be  cleverly  given  at  times, 
but  at  best,  it  is  an  approximation  to  the  correct  repre- 
sentation of  a  person's  externality,  so  none  but  harmless 
externalities,  or  realities,  should  be  given,  nothing  that 


RODGER  LATIMER  S  MISTAKE  97 

we  could  object  to  in  real  life,  either  in  sentiment  or 
manner." 

"That  is  very  true,"  said  Miss  Edwards. 

Mr.  Latimer  looked  at  her  a  moment  in  silence,  then 
he  rose  from  his  chair  and  commenced  to  walk  back  and 
forth  across  the  room.  Miss  Edwards  did  not,  at  all, 
understand  the  drift  of  his  talk;  she  felt  convinced  that 
he  had  something  on  his  mind,  but  she  could  not  even 
guess  at  its  nature.  She  did  not  wish  to  turn  the  con- 
versation away  from  the  present  subject,  for  fear  of  im- 
pressing him  as  lacking  sympathy  with  his  mood  and 
turn  of  thought,  but  she  dared  say  no  more  than  give  fier 
assent  to  his  opinions,  lest  she  pitch  herself  in  some 
quagmire,  by  an  irrelevant  utterance.  So  she  remained 
silent  as  he  walked  the  floor,  with  head  slightly  bowed 
and  hands  behind  his  back.  At  last  he  stood  still  beside 
the  table  near  which  she  sat. 

"Miss  Edwards?"  he  said,  then  ceased  speaking  in 
evident  embarrassment.  She  uttered  only  one  word  in  a 
soft,  persuasive  tone. 

"Yes?"  she  interrogated. 

"I  don't  know  but  that  you  will  think  me  very  pre- 
suming; indeed,  I  seem  so  to  myself,"  he  continued,  with 
increasing  embarrassment,  "  but  I  have  a  great  favor  to 
ask  of  you.  I  have  no  right  to  ask  it,  I  know,"  he  hur- 
riedly added. 

She  turned  her  face  full  upon  him  as  she  said:  "  There  is 
nothing,  Mr.  Latimer,  that  you  can  ask  of  me  that  I  would 
not  gladly  grant.  I  wish  there  was  something  that  I 
could  do  for  you,  in  return  for  your  many  kindnesses  to 
me." 

"Kindnesses!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  don't  knovv  of  what 
you  speak. " 

"Perhaps  you  may  not  regard  it  as  much,  but  I  was 
7  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake. 


gS  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

thinking  this  morning  that  for  months  I  had  been  sur- 
rounded by  the  most  beautiful  flowers  and  the  best  of 
books,  for  which  I  was  indebted  to  your  thoughtful  kind- 
ness. "  Miss  Edwards  with  seeming  unconsciousness,  raised 
her  hand  and  toyed  with  three  roses  worn  on  the  bosom  of 
her  dress  that  she  had  taken  from  a  bowl  on  the  table  that 
held  several  dozen  of  the  same  kind,  which  Mr.  Latimer 
had  sent  her  the  day  before. 

"I  beg  of  you  not  to  speak  of  such  slight  things,"  said 
Mr.  Latimer,  in  a  voice  full  of  feeling;  "it  has  given  me 
the  greatest  pleasure  to  see  that  you  cared  enough  for 
either  the  flowers  or  books  to  let  them  remain  near  you." 

"I'll  not  question  that,"  she  replied  with  a  beautiful 
smile,  "remembering  that  the  good  Book  says,  'It's  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive,'  if  you  will  only  believe 
that  it  will  give  me  pleasure  to  render  you  any  slight 
service  that  is  in  my  power,  and  will  be  good  enough  to 
ask  it  without  the  least  hesitation.  Really,"  she  added, 
seeing  that  he  still  hesitated,  "I  shall  feel  complimented 
to  know  that  it  is  possible  for  me  to  render  you  a 
service." 

Nothing  could  be  more  charmingly  winning  than  her 
voice  and  manner.  It  was  with  a  great  effort  that  Mr. 
Latimer  refrained  from  throwing  himself  at  her  feet,  but 
he  quietly  turned  and  walked  the  floor  again,  and  Miss 
Edwards  saw  that  his  face  was  pale  with  emotion.  After 
a  little  time,  in  which  nothing  had  been  said  by  either  of 
them,  he  stopped  behind  her  chair  and  looked  down  on 
her  as  she  sat  with  her  elbow  resting  on  the  arm  of  the 
chair,  and  her  head  leaning  on  her  hand  in  a  way  that 
gave  him  a  full  view  of  the  side  of  her  face.  He  gazed 
down  on  the  warm  chestnut  hair,  the  drooping  eyelids, 
rounded  cheek,  and  red  lips  just  now  quivering  with 
emotion,  and  on  the  superb  neck  and  bust. 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


99 


"Miss  Edwards,  do  you  care  especially  to  take  the  part 
of  Ardano  in  the  play?"  he  asked  hesitatingly. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  she  replied  in  a  cheerful,  decided 
tone.  "  On  the  contrary,  T  should  be  glad  to  be  excused 
from  the  whole  thing. " 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  you  say  so!"  he  exclaimed. 

"  I  only  consented  to  take  the  part, "  said  Miss  Edwards, 
unhesitatingly,  feeling  that  now  she  stood  on  firm  ground, 
"  to  please  my  sister.  She  was  very  anxious  that  I  should, 
and  she  and  Mrs.  Von  Stein  and  Mrs.  Lefarve  pressed  it 
on  me,  so  at  last  I  consented." 

"  You  may  think  it  strange  that  I  should  speak  of  the 
matter  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Latimer,  "and  it  is  strange. 
Perhaps  you  cannot  understand  it,  when  I  say  that  it  pains 
me  to  think  of  you  in  many  of  the  situations  that  you 
would  be  compelled  to  occupy  as  the  Ardano  of  that 
play. " 

Miss  Edwards  was  silent;  she  could  not  understand  his 
motive  in  asking  of  her  what  he  did,  but  she  instantly 
decided  to  give  up  the  play  if  he  wished  it.  Why  did  he 
wish  it?  she  asked  herself  with  a  flutter  of  heart,  and  she 
dared  not  hope  all  that  might  possibly  be  inferred  from 
his  words  and  manner.  He  was  gazing  intently  upon  her 
face. 

"It's  a  great  deal  for  me  to  ask,"  he  pursued.  "I  have 
no  right  to  ask  it,  and  yet  I  cannot  refrain  from  doing  so. 
It's  right  that  you  should  know  the  reason  for  such  a 
request;  let  me  try  and  tell  you."  He  was  silent  a 
moment  or  two,  then  continued:  "Mrs.  Von  Stein  has 
given  me  the  part  of  Ardano's  brother;  pardon  me,  Miss 
Edwards,  but  permit  me  to  speak  as  a  brother  might. 
You  must  not  think  it  strange  that  during  this  winter,  in 
the  happy  hours  of  my  association  with  you,  I  have  come 
to  regard  you  with  all  of  the  interest  a  brother  might  feel; 


ioo  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

• 

and  it  distressed  me  last  evening  to  see  you,  even  in  jest, 
holding  the  relations  that  you  were  compelled  to,  to  Mr. 
Lefarve  and  Mr.  Whitridge.  And  think  for  a  moment 
how  much  more  objectionable,  in  the  inference  at  least, 
it  will  be  when  the  play  is  fully  carried  out. " 

Mr.  Latimer  ceased  speaking,  and  waited  as  though 
expecting  some  reply.  When  none  came  he  hastily  added 
in  a  tone  of  apprehension :  "  You  think  me  unreasonable  ? 
You  cannot  agree  w.ith  me  ?" 

"I  fully  agree  with  you,"  replied  Miss  Edwards,  "and 
I  don't  think  you  at  all  unreasonable.  •  Let  me  speak  to 
you  frankly. "  Her  head  drooped  slightly,  and  her  voice 
sank  so  low  Mr.  Latimer  was  compelled  to  lean  down 
from  his  height,  a  little  over  her,  to  catch  her  words.  "  I 
never  liked  the  play.  I  always  disliked  my  part;  I  felt 
sometimes  that  I  could  not  take  it,  but  what  was  I  to  do? 
I  didn't  like  to  displease  my  sister,  and  I  had  no  one  to 
help  me  out  of  it." 

"  Then  you  will  not  take  it  ?"  Mr.  Latimer  eagerly  asked. 

"  No,  certainly  not,  if  you  wish  me  not  to."  The  slight, 
but  yet  evident  emphasis  on  the  word  you,  possessed  the 
power  to  bring  a  deep  flush  of  delight  into  Mr.  Latimer's 
face. 

"Thank  you!  thank  you,  Marie,"  he  exclaimed;  he  had 
never  called  her  Marie  before.  "  How  can  I  ever  repay 
you!  what  a  relief  it  is  to  know  that  I  shall  not  see  you 
again  in  any  of  the  situations  of  last  evening;  I  felt  that 
I  could  not  bear  to  have  those  men  touch  your  hand ;  how 
hateful  the  whole  thing  was  to  me !  How  can  I  repay  you  ?" 
In  his  excitement  he  had  leaned  over  the  chair,  and  had 
rested  one  of  his  hands  lightly  on  Miss  Edwards'  right 
shoulder.  As  he  asked,  "  How  can  I  repay  you  ?"  she 
raised  her  left  hand  and  laid  it  very  softly  upon  his  hand, 
as  she  replied: 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  101 

"  By  always  being  my  good,  true  friend." 

That  electric  touch  pulled  apart  the  last  strand  of  his 
self  control.  In  a  moment  the  impulsive  man  was  on 
his  knees  by  the  side  of  the  chair,  and  had  taken  the 
beautiful  head  in  his  arms,  and  was  kissing  the  hair 
and  brow,  and  closed  eyes,  and  pouring  out  such  words 
of  burning  love  as  Marie  Edwards  had  never  heard 
before. 

Two  hours  afterward,  Miss  Edwards  let  Mr.  Latimer 
out  of  the  front  door,  turning  the  key  and  fastening  the 
chain  behind  him  with  her  own  hands.  Then  she  went 
back  through  the  dimly  lighted  hall  to  the  library,  where 
she  sat  down  in  the  chair  beside  the  table  which  she  had 
occupied  most  of  the  evening.  She  was  alone  in  the  large 
room;  she  leaned  her  head  against  the  back  of  the  chair 
and  closed  her  eyes,  to  live  it  all  over  again,  as  any 
loving  girl  would  have  done.  An  hour  after,  she  turned 
out  the  side  gas  lights,  extinguished  the  coal  oil  lamps, 
and  noiselessly  went  up  stairs,  turning  the  gas  off  in  the 
hall  as  she  passed  through.  The  hour  had  not  been  one 
of  dreamy,  love-making  remembrances,  but  one  filled  with 
the  forecastings  of  a  calculating  woman  of  the  world. 
Though  she  had  been  delightfully  startled  by  Mr.  Lati- 
mer's  impetuosity,  and  very  sweet  to  her  had  been  his 
words  of  love  and  adoration,  the  after-thoughts  were  of 
the  life  of  assured  position  and  social  influence  which  the 
man  of  wealth  could  bestow  upon  her,  rather  than  of  his 
protestations  of  affection. 

As  Miss  Edwards  turned  the  light  up  in  her  own  room, 
she  saw  her  sister  lying  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  in  her 
nightgown,  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  looking  straight  at  her 
with  wide  open  eyes. 

"  Harriet !  why  are  you  not  in  bed,  and  fast  asleep  ?"  she 
asked. 


102  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"I  wanted  you  to  tell  me  all  about  it  before  I  went  to 
bed,"  said  Mrs.  White. 

"About  what?"  asked  Miss  Edwards  with  a  smile. 

"O  you  know!  about  what  Mr.  Latimer  said  to  you; 
come,  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"How  do  you  know  he  said  anything?"  asked  Miss 
Edwards,  as  she  stood  in  front  of  her  bureau  unbuttoning 
her  dress  and  looking  at  herself  in  the  glass. 

"Now  don't  be  so  provoking,  Marie.  I'm  dying  to 
know;  do  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"Well,  he  don't  like  my  being  in  that  play  of  yours, 
and  wishes  me  to  give  up  the  part  of  Ardano. " 

"Marie  Edwards'  you  don't  say  that  was  all  he  has 
been  talking  about  for  these  three  hours?"  asked  Mrs. 
White,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  as  she  tightly  held 
the  blanket  around  her  shoulders. 

"I  think  it's  considerable,"  replied  Miss  Edwards,  "and 
you  will  have  to  manage  it  for  me,  and  get  me  off.  He  has 
a  great  deal  of  feeling  about  it.  It  will  never  do.  I  must 
give  it  up." 

"Give  it  up!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  White;  "what  will  Mrs. 
Von  Stein  say?  Why  don't  he  like  it,  what's  the  matter? 
I  declare,  I'm  out  of  all  patience."  Mrs.  White  threw  off 
her  blanket  and  stood  up  in  her  lamb's  wool  slippers,  as 
straight  as  a  section  of  lightning  rod.  "I  don't  know," 
she  continued  energetically,  "what  right  he  had  to  ask 
you  to  leave  the  play.  If  that  is  all  he  has  to  say,  it's 
none  of  his  concern;  how  long  he  staid!  I  sent  Vilas  to 
bed  and  told  him  I  would  lock  up  and  put  the  lights  out 
myself,  and  I  coaxed  James  up  stairs  as  soon  as  old  Perry 
left,  for  fear  he  would  go  in  the  library,  for  I  really 
thought  Mr.  Latimer  had  something  special  to  say  to  you. 
I  was  sure  he  was  in  love  with  you.  If  he  isn't  I'll  give 
up  that  I  know  anything  about  men.  He's  acted  for  six 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


103 


weeks  as  though  he  was  perfectly  dazed.  Want  you  to 
leave  the  play!"  Mrs.  White  shook  out  her  blanket,  and 
threw  it  over  her  shoulders  as  she  said:  "I'm  going  to 
bed,  it's  nearly  one,  there's  time  enough  to  talk  that  play 
matter  over  to-morrow." 

Miss  Edwards  took  her  by  the  arm,  as  she  was  going 
toward  the  door.  "  Stay,  Harriet,"  she  said,  "  I  have  some- 
thing to  tell  you.  But  you  will  take  cold;  cuddle  up  in 
that  chair." 

Mrs.  White  curled  up  in  the  large  chair  designated,  and 
Marie,  sitting  in  front  of  the  bureau,  commenced  to  brush 
her  hair,  which  she  usually  brushed  for  half  an  hour  every 
night,  to  keep  it  bright  and  soft.  She  seemed  in  no  haste 
to  speak,  and  Mrs.  White  waited  in  impatient  silence  a 
few  moments,  then  said: 

"Well,  what  have  you  to  tell  me,  Marie?      Do  speak." 

"What  a  hurry  you  are  in,  Harriet,"  said  Marie,  smil- 
ingly, as  she  drew  the  brush  the  length  of  her  hair;  "but 
Mr.  Latimer  did  tell  me  that  he  loved  me." 

"  And  asked  you  to  marry  him  ?" 

"  No,  there  wasn't  a  word  said  about  marriage,  but  with 
a  man  of  Mr.  Latimer's  type,  words  of  love  are  based  on 
marriage. " 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  White;  "young  men  nowa- 
days are  slippery  as  eels,  but  Mr.  Latimer  don't  seem  like 
most  other  young  men." 

"  He's  very  different,  I  always  told  you  he  was." 

"But  did  he  really  tell  you  that  he  loved  you?"  asked 
Mrs.  White;  "  in  a  way  that  he  wished  to  marry  you?" 

"Yes,  he  did  really  tell  me  that  he  loved  me,"  replied 
Marie  laughingly,  as  she  imitated  Mrs.  White's  intona- 
tions. Then  she  added  very  seriously,  "  I  wonder  if  it's 
possible  for  a  man  to  love  a  woman  as  he  says  he  loves 
me?  There's  something  beautiful  in  it,  and  something 


104  RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

dreadful,  too."  Marie  lapsed  into  thought.  Poor  Mrs. 
White  was  eager  for  the  whole  story,  and  when  was  there 
ever  a  woman  not  eager  to  hear  the  last  detail  in  a  girl's 
love  affair. 

"What  did  he  say?"  asked  Mrs.  White;  "how  do  you 
know  that  he  loves"  you  so  much  ?" 

"Know!"  exclaimed  Marie;  "by  the  way  he  looks,  and 
moves,  and  speaks;  why,  every  look  of  his  eye,  and  tone 
of  his  voice,  and  touch  of  his  hands,  are  declarations  of 
love.  I  don't  suppose  I  ought  to  tell  what  he  said." 

"Yes,  you  should,  every  word  of  it,"  insisted  Mrs. 
White. 

"But  he  calls  me  his  queen,  his  darling,  his  angel,  and 
his  life,  and  hope,  and  soul,  all  in  one  breath.  He  seems 
to  think  me  the  most  beautiful  woman  that  ever  lived,  or 
can  live." 

"Any  one  could  see,"  said  Mrs.  White,  "that  he  thought 
you  were  very  handsome,  from  the  way  he  looks  at  you. 
I  declare  I've  sometimes  been  afraid  that  other  people 
would  notice  it,  and  laugh  about  it.  It's  not  any  seem 
with  him,  he  really  thinks  so.  You  certainly  think  he's 
honest  in  all  he  says?" 

"Honest  as  heaven!  I've  seen  something  of  men  and 
have  been  made  love  to  somewhat,  but  I  never  met  a  man 
like  Rodger."  Mrs.  White's  face  broke  out  all  over  in 
a  satisfied,  triumphant  smile,  as  Marie  said  "Rodger." 

"That  settles  it,"  she  thought;    "they'll  be  married." 

Marie  continued:  "  It's  strange  what  confidence  I  feel  in 
him;  I  would  as  soon  expect  the  moon  to  fall  out  of  the 
sky  as  for  him  to  utter  a  dishonest  word,  or  do  anything 
that  was  not  exactly  right.  How  differently  I  feel  about 
his  going  away  to-night  without  saying  a  word  of  mar- 
riage, from  what  I  would  if  it  had  been  any  other  man  I 
know,  or  ever  have  known,  for  matter  of  that." 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  105 

"  But  didn't  he  say  anything  about  your  marrying  him  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  White. 

•"No;  he  called  me  his  wife,  his  darling  wife,  in  some 
of  his  rhapsodies,  and  said  that  his  whole  life  was  to  be 
spent  in  making  me  happy,  but  he  didn't  come  down  to 
serious  talk  about  our  being  married.  It  makes  no  dif- 
ference with  him;  I  feel  as  sure  of  him  as  though  I  had 
had  a  public  betrothal,  or  were  married.  He  feels  every 
word  he  says,  through  and  through.  I  wouldn't  have  let 
any  other  man  kiss  me  as  he  did,  and  hold  my  hands, 
before  he  had  asked  me  in  plain  English  to  be  his  wife, 
and  asked  permission  to  speak  to  you  or  James." 

As  Marie  finished  speaking  the  brush  lay  idly  on  her 
knee,  and  for  a  few  moments  she  seemed  lost  in  thought, 
with  her  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy.  The  expression  of  her 
face  was  sad  and  hard;  wasn't  it  the  memory  of  a  bitter 
lesson  learned  that  made  it  so? 

"  But  he  will  talk  about  it  the  next  time  he  sees  you, 
won't  he?"  said  Mrs.  White,  "or  do  you  suppose  he  will 
go  on  with  just  his  love  making?" 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  were  here  in  the  morn- 
ing," replied  Marie,  "pressing  for  a  speedy  marriage,  and 
talking  the  whole  matter  over  with  you." 

Happy  Mrs.  White!  She  folded  her  hands  over  the 
blanket  and  straightened  her  head  up  against  the  back  of 
the  chair,  and  assumed  the  air  of  the  affectionate  elder 
sister  and  general  adviser.  The  comparative  merits  of 
brocade  with  pearls,  and  velvet  with  diamonds,  for  her 
dress,  as  she  stood  at  the  altar  near  the  bride,  passed 
through  her  mind;  and  Mrs.  Von  Stein  and  Mrs.  Rich- 
mond there  to  see!  She  gave  a  tug  to  the  blanket,  fold- 
ing it  closer  about  her  breast,  and  clasped  her  hands 
again  over  the  folds,  envying  no  reigning  queen  under 
her  royal  purple.  She  gazed  at  her  sister  with  the  old 


106  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

affection,  but  with  it  there  was  mingled  a  new  expression 
of  rapidly  increasing  deference. 

"  I  declare,  Marie,  you're  a  happy  girl,"  she  said  after 
a  little.  "We'll  have  a  splendid  evening  church  wedding, 
won't  we?  just  as  handsome  as  it  can  be  made,  the  very 
best  of  everything.  I  know  James  will  be  delighted  to  do 
it;  he  was  always  proud  of  you,  and  you  know  Mr.  Lati- 
mer's  a  great  favorite  of  his.  You  are  a  happy  girl  Marie, 
Mr.  Latimer's  a  great-match,  the  best  in  Qinton ;  and  then 
he's  so  kind-hearted,  just  see  how  much  Polly  and  Uora 
think  of  him.  You'll  have  everything,  just  think  of  it! 
Such  luck  don't  come  to  many  girls.  He  has  money,  and 
is  fine  looking,  and  is  intellectual,  loves  you,  and  then 
he's  good,  which  is  something  after  all." 

Marie  had  come  out  of  her  sad  retrospection,  whatever 
it  had  been,  and  was  quietly  brushing  her  hair,  with  an 
expression  of  perfect  contentment  on  her  face.  She  scarcely 
heard  her  sister's  enumeration  of  the  desirable  qualities 
possessed  by  her  lover,  which  she  had  counted  over  herself 
many  times  during  the  past  weeks,  both  the  inherent, 
and  adventitious  ones,  although  she  had  not  ranked  them 
exactly  as  Mrs.  White  had  just  done. 

"You  always  were  a  dear  good  girl,"  continued  Mrs. 
White,  "and  I  hope  you'll  be  very  happy.  Wont  James 
be  delighted!  Say,  Marie,  when  will  you  be  married?  I'm 
so  glad  you're  to  live  in  Clinton." 

"  I  shall  be  married  next  May  or  June,"  replied  Marie. 
"I  know  Rodger  will  wish  for  an  early  marriage,  and  I 
dislike  long  engagements." 

"  Let  me  see — "  said  Mrs.  White,"  this  is  the  middle  of 
February,  March — April — May.  Why  Marie!  that  will 
give  you  only  three  or  three  and  a  half  months  to  get 
ready  in." 

"That's  time  enough." 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  IO7 

"Where  will  you  spend  the  summer?" 

"I  don't  care  where,  anywhere  Rodger  chooses." 

"Will  you  keep  house  next  winter?" 

"Certainly  I  shall,"  replied  Marie  with  decision. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  Mr.  Latimer  will  wish  for  his.  own 
home,  he  seems  very  domestic,"  said  Mrs.  White. 

"  I  shall  wish  for  mine,  whether  he  wishes  for  his  or 
not,"  responded  Marie. 

"How  strange  it  sounds,"  said  Mrs.  White  tenderly, 
"to  hear  you  talk  of  keeping  house,  and  being  married." 

"It  don't  seem  so  very  strange  to  me,"  said  Marie, 
"  it  seems  natural,  just  as  it  should  be." 

"Yes,  it  certainly  is  just  as  it  should  be,"  replied  Mrs. 
White.  "  Wont  Mrs.  Richmond  and  Mrs.  Von  Stein  be  sur- 
prised, and  then  the  Blackwells!  Mrs.  Blackwell  has 
been  particularly  attentive  to  Mr.  Latimer;  she  told  me 
she  regarded  him  as  being  a  most  exemplary  young  man. 
I  wonder  if  she  wouldn't  have  been  glad  to  have  had  him 
marry  her  Marion." 

"I'm  sure,"  said  Marie,  "that  I  don't  know  anything 
about  that;  but  Harriet,  we  must  go  to  bed.  Here  it  is 
two  o'clock,"  continued  Marie,  taking  her  watch  from  the 
bureau  and  looking  at  it.  "  I  shall  be  up  late  to-morrow 
night,  and  must  go  to  bed.  I  suppose  Rodger  will  spend 
every  evening  here  now,  unless  we  are  out  somewhere. 
Suppose  you  tell  Susan  when  she  conies  in  your  room  in 
the  morning,  not  to  come  in  here  till  I  ring.  If  my  curtains 
are  not  raised,  and  no  one  opens  the  door,  perhaps  I  may 
sleep  an  hour  or  two  later." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Rodger  Latimer  did  not  go  to  Mrs.  White's  the  irext 
morning,  as  Miss  Edwards  fancied  he  might,  but  he  sat 
himself  down  to  write  a  letter  to  Margaret  McVey,  and 
found  that  it  was  not  quite  as  easy  a  task  as  he  had  antic- 
ipated. At  first  he  dashed  off  several  pages  full  of  his 
love  for  Marie  Edwards,  which  on  reading  over  struck 
him  as  not  being  in  very  good  taste  under  the  circum- 
stances. Then  he  indited  another,  from  a  lofty  moral 
standpoint  of  duty  to  one's  self,  and  the  supremacy  of  the 
law  of  love  and  the  obligation  of  obedience  to  that  law. 
This  suited  him  some  better,  but  he  was  far  from  being 
satisfied  with  it.  After  a  few  turns  across  the  room,  he 
opened  his  table  drawer,  into  which  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  throwing  miscellaneous  letters,  and  sorted  the  contents, 
selecting  out  Margaret's  letters  and  placing  them  on  the 
table  by  themselves;  then  he  arranged  them  in  chrono- 
logical order  beginning  with  the  previous  August.  He 
opened  several  of  those  written  in  August  and  September, 
glanced  at  the  beginning,  read  a  few  lines  and  laid  them 
aside  with  an  expression  of  annoyance  on  his  face;  he 
turned  from  them,  as  from  something  distasteful.  After 
looking  at  half  a  dozen  written  later  in  the  winter  he 
arose  and  went  to  the  fireplace  and  rested  his  arm  on  a 
corner  of  the  mantel,  and  gazed  into  the  fire.  After  a 
little  he  raised  his  eyes  to  an  engraving  of  Titian's 
Sleeping  Venus  that  was  in  an  exquisite  frame  on  a  small 
easel  on  the  mantel.  A  thought  seemed  to  strike  him;  he 
took  the  Venus  from  the  frame  and  placed  therein  a 
cabinet  photograph  of  Marie  Edwards,  that  she  gave  him 
the  night  before.  It  was  a  side  view;  the  head  drooped 
1 08 


RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 


109 


a  little,  and  the  eyes  were  cast  down;  the  dress  was  as 
decollete  as  any  of  the  ladies  in  Mr.  Lundom  White's 
family  dared  wear,  the  light  played  upon  the.  soft  curves, 
and  undulating  lines,  in  a  way  that  brought  out  their  vo- 
luptuous sweetness.  How  enchanting  was  the  glow  that 
crept  from  beneath  the  more  than  half-closed  lids,  and 
lay  caught  below  the  delicate  lashes!  How  lovely  the 
meeting  of  cheek  and  neck,  the  well-rounded  shoulders 
and  swelling  bust  covered  with  a  mist  of  illusion  lace! 
Mr.  Latimer's  face  was  transformed  as  he  gazed  upon 
the  picture  before  him,  his  eyes  glowed  with  excitement, 
and  his  lips  parted  with  intense  emotion.  After  a  little 
he  turned  to  the  table  to  finish  his  task,  taking  Marie's 
picture,  which  he  placed  on  the  table  directly  in  front  of 
him.  He  commenced  to  read  Margaret's  letters  again, 
several  of  which  he  put  aside  after  giving  them  a  hasty 
glance,  then  he  read  one  clear  through,  and  another,  and 
another,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end.  There  were  not 
many  of  them  all  together,  and  very  few  written  after 
the  first  of  November.  It  was  these  last  ones  that  he 
read  carefully  through.  As  he  finished  the  last  one,  dated 
something  like  a  month  back,  he  rested  his  elbow  on  the 
table,  and  his  head  on  his  hand.  He  drew  before  him 
a  sheet  of  paper,  and  dipped  his  pen  in  the  ink,  and  plac- 
ing his  hand  in  a  writing  position,  held  the  pen  above  the 
paper.  But  his  eye  caught  Marie  Edwards'  face,  and  all 
thoughts  of  the  unwritten  letter  fled  from  his  mind, 
while  he  lived  over  the  blissful  hours  passed  with  her  the 
evening  before.  It  might  have  been  ten  minutes  or  an 
hour,  that  he  was  lost  in  thought,  he  did  not  know;  but 
presently  he  came  to  himself,  and  then  he  threw  down 
his  pen,  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  gazed  into  the  fire, 
from  which  he  turned  in  half  an  hour  to  take  in  his  hand 
several  of  Margaret's  letters  which  he  carefully  re-read. 


no  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

As  he  finished  them  he  took  up  his  pen,  and  again  held  it 
over  the  paper.  "  Evidently  we  both  were  mistaken,"  he 
said  aloud,  and  he  re-read  again  one  of  the  latest  letters. 
"Those  letters  certainly  indicate  a  change,"  he  thought, 
"  a  gradual  change.  She  was  very  young  when  we  became 
engaged,  a  mere  child;  she  was  inexperienced,  knew 
nothing  of  men.  That  letter  of  last  month  is  not  at  all 
like  those  of  September;  how  do  I  know  what  men  she 
has  met  this  winter.  She  was  probably  mistaken  in  her 
feelings  toward  me,  as  I  certainly '  was,  regarding  mine 
toward  her;  it  is  better  that  we  found  it  out  at  this  early 
day;  she  may  not  love  another,  she  may  have  just  found 
out  that  she  does  not  love  me.  Her  father  is  about  all  she 
wants;  I  never  knew  any  one  so  easily  satisfied.  That 
miserable  Edgewood!  I  shall  never  go  there  again,  but  I 
must  write  her  something.  I'm  glad  she  don't  love  me, 
it  will  make  the  whole  thing  easier.  It  is  right,  she 
would  say  so  herself.  I  should  say  so  to  her,  if  she  had 
discovered  that  she  was  mistaken."  He  put  the  pen  to 
the  paper  and  wrote  rapidly.  It  was  not  a  long  letter; 
he  addressed  and  stamped  it,  touched  his  bell,  and  gave 
the  letter  to  the  man  who  appeared,  with  an  order  to 
send  it  to  the  postoffice  immediately.  He  turned  back 
from  the  door,  cheerfully  humming  a  strain  of  a  popular 
opera,  kissed  Marie's  picture,  ordered  his  carriage,  and 
went  to  take  luncheon  with  Mrs.  White  and  Marie 
Edwards. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

When  Rodger  Latimer  bade  Margaret  good-bye,  the  day 
he.  left  Edgewood  to  go  to  New  York,  which  was  the  day 
following  the  one  he  spent  in  the  woods  with  her,  the 
evening  of  which  they  passed  on  the  piazza  together,  that 
beautiful  August  evening! — he  promised  to  return  and 
spend  a  few  of  the  autumn  days  with  her. 

"My  vacation  is  over,  Margery,"  he  said,  "and  I  must 
get  to  work,  but  I'll  run  up,  for  at  least  one  day,  the  last 
of  September,  and  we.' 11  have  a  great  many  evenings 
together  this  winter.  But  because  I'm  to  be  so  near,  you 
must  not  stop  writing  to  me.  You  don't  know  how  much 
your  letters  are  to  me." 

Margaret  realized  that  her  lover  was  no  exception  to 
the  average  man,  in  his  dislike  of  letter  writing,  and  she 
had  accepted  this  fact  in  the  early  years  of  their  corres- 
pondence, with  a  common  sense  amiability,  after  she  was 
once  thoroughly  convinced  that  he  really  did  set  a  posi- 
tive value  on  her  letters.  During  the  years  of  this  corres- 
pondence, she  might  not  have  written  him  a  larger  number 
of  letters  than  he  her,  but  the  pages  of  hers  frequently 
outnumbered  the  lines  of  his.  Short  as  his  letters  often 
were,  they  had  been  frequent  enough,  and  long  enough, 
to  give  her  a  knowledge  of  his  daily  life,  and  were  so 
unreservedly  confidential  in  their  character,  they  prevented 
any  strangeness  from  growing  up  between  them  during  his 
long  college  absences.  After  he  left  her  in  August  to  go 
to  New  York,  his  letters  came  with  their  usual  regularity 
and  frequency,  but  soon  after  his  return  to  Clinton,  they 
came  very  irregularly,  and  she  felt  a  lack  of  something 
in  them,  which  she  could  not  define,  and  for  many  weeks 


H2  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

did  not  attempt  to  define.  The  facts  of  his  daily  life 
were  given ;  she  knew  something  of, his  boarding  house 
on  Hillson  street,  of  his  pleasant  office,  and  of  his  hours 
of  copying,  and  wearisome  waiting  for  clients;  and  she 
was  not  surprised  at  his  evident  restlessness,  and  chafing 
under  the  dragging  monotony  of  his  daily  task;  but  was 
surprised,  and  a  little  hurt  by  his  seeming  loss  of  interest 
in  her  life,  and  in  her  father,  and  all  that  pertained  to 
Edgewood,  and  indeed  to  all  of  their  past  life  together. 
He  delayed  his  promised  visit  to  her  from  week  to  week, 
till  at  last  October  came,  and  the  leaves  had  fallen  from 
the  trees,  and  the  autumn  beauty  of  the  country  town  had 
gone.  Gradually  Margaret  grew. thoughtful  and  silent, 
but  no  positive  fear  'possessed  her  regarding  either 
Rodger's  affection  for  her,  or  their  future  happiness 
together,  until  one  November  day,  when  she  opened  a 
letter  from  him,  and  her  eyes  rested  on  the  unusual 
address  with  which  it  began.  He  had  always  called  her 
Margery  when  they  were  small  children,  and  all  through 
their  happy  after  years,  and  had  never  called  her  anything 
else,  and  no  one  beside  him,  had  ever  called  her  that. 
The  members  of  her  household  and  her  familiar  friends 
would  about  as  soon  have  taken  Mr.  Latimer's  purse 
from  his  pocket,  as  to  have  taken  the  name  of  Margery 
from  his  lips,  and  used  it  themselves.  Instead  of  the  dear 
familiar  Margery,  this  letter  she  held  in  her  hand  began 
with  the  conventional  address  of  "  My  dear  Margaret." 
As  she  read  it,  her  head  whirled,  and  she  was  in  an  instant 
the  victim  of  a  strange  hallucination.  She  lost  her 
personal  identity  for  a  moment,  and  dropped  her  eyes 
down  the  page — ^only  a  dozen  lines  or  so — to  see  who 
wrote  the  letter.  Yes,  it  was  from  Rodger,  there  was  his 
name  in  full,  but  who  was  it  written  to?  She  looked 
again  at  the  address,  "My  dear  Margaret,"  and  she 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  nj 

thought,  "  Margery  must  be  dead,  and  Rodger  has  written 
to  tell  me  so."  All  of  this  passed  in  a  moment,  and  she 
was  herself  again,  but  permeated  with  a  presentiment  of 
some  impending  calamity.  She  read  the  letter  carefully; 
there  was  nothing  unusual  in  it,  in  nothing  was  it 
different  from  those  she  had  received  from  him  for 
many  weeks  past.  She  re-read  it,  lingering  on  each 
word,  vainly  trying  to  extract  from  it  a -quality  it 
did  not  possess.'  For  the  first  time  in  her  acquaint- 
ance with  Rodger,  she  felt  that  something  was  wrong 
between  them.  She  felt  that  this  letter  which  she  held 
in  her  hand,  that  stared  at  her  in  such  a  hard,  cruel  way, 
was  indicative  of  a  wrong  somewhere.  She  turned  to  her 
desk,  and  took  from  its  drawer,  a  number  of  his  late 
letters,  that  had  impressed  her  as  lacking  some  old  and 
well-known  element,  and  after  reading  these,  she  selected 
some  of  those  written  the  previous  winter  and  spring,  and 
read  them  through.  Oh!  what  a  difference!  so  fond!  so 
warm!  Not  long  nor  effusive,  but  breathing  in  every 
line,  the  calm,  tender  love,  that  had  so  brooded  her  life 
with  its  sheltering  warmth.  For  an  hour  she  sat  in  painful, 
incoherent  thought,  with  accelerated  pulse,  and  a  buzzing 
in  her"  ears,  then  she  went  to  her  bedroom,  and  putting  on 
her  hat  and  jacket,  started  for  the  woods  back  of  the  col- 
lege. The  exercise  and  fresh  air,  restored  the  circulation 
of  her  blood  to  its  normal  rate,  which  cleared  hef  brain. 
And  as  she  seated  herself  at  the  root  of  a  tree  to  grappie 
with  facts,  she  resolutely  set  herself  to  eliminate  all  that 
might  be  imaginary,  all  that  might  be  the  outgrowth  of  a 
morbid  state  of  mind,  and  steadily  look  at  the  simple  facts 
of  the  case.  It  was  a  difficult  task  ;  half  of  the  time  she  was 
in  tears,  and  frequently  she  was  so  mastered  by  her  appre- 
hensions of  coming  evil,  that  she  sat  motionless,  shivering 
and  shrinking  as  it  were,  from  some  approaching  ill.  But 
8  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake. 


II4  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

with  all  of  her  will  power,  she  turned  from  the  present  to 
the  past,  and  brought  before  herself  all  of  the  years  of 
her  acquaintance  with  Rodger,  and  her  knowledge  of  his 
character,  in  order,  if  possible,  to  account  to  herself,  for 
the  evident  change  in  his  feelings  toward  her.  She 
could  not  remember  the  time  when  she  had  not  known 
Rodger;  there  was  no  experience  of  her  life  that  he  had 
not  shared,  no  transition  period  through  which  they  had 
not  walked  side  by  side.  He  had  participated  in  all  of 
her  childhood's  plays  and  in  the  studies  of  her  girlhood, 
he  had  been  her  companion  in  society,  and  she  had  never 
taken  a  trip  at  home  or  abroad,  unaccompanied  by  him. 
They  had  prepared  for  confirmation  together,  and  knelt 
side  by  side  at  the  altar,  when  the  good  Bishop  laid  his 
hands  on  their  heads.  As  she  thought  of  that  Sabbath 
morning,  she  said  to  herself:  "  The  man  who  knelt  beside 
me  there,  cannot  be  false,  he  cannot  do  a  wicked  thing." 
Then  she  thought  of  the  many  years,  when  his  absences 
in  Harvard  were  shortened,  and  brightened  by  his  regular 
letters,  and  of  the  delightful  holidays,  and  summer  vaca- 
tions, when  he  was  a  daily  inmate  of  their  home,  and  their 
lives  went  on  as  smoothly  as  the  even  sweep  of  a  great 
river  through  a  level  country.  It  all  came  back  to  her,  it 
was  a  tangle  of  thought,  a  confused  mixture  of  retros- 
pection and  reasoning,  but  out  of  it,  at  the  end  of  an  hour 
or  more,  two  conclusions  stood  clear  and  distinct  in  her 
mind.  One  that  she  must  not  be  childishly  suspicious, 
or  hasty  in  her  judgments  of  Rodger;  the  other,  that 
come  what  might,  her  father  must  not  suffer  on  her 
account.  Whatever  she  might  be  compelled  to  suffer  in 
any  way,  she  must  so  bear  it,  and  so  manage  it,  that  her 
father  would  not  know  that  she  suffered  at  all. 

As  Margaret,  on   her   return   from   the  woods,  went  to 
her  room  to  dress  for  dinner,  she  was  appalled  by  the 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  115 

appearance  of  her  face,  as  reflected  from  the  mirror;  her 
eyes  were  red  and  swollen,  her  hair  was  in  confusion 
across  her  forehead,  and  her  cheeks  were  covered  with 
purple  spots.  As  she  was  wondering  what  she  should  do 
to  hide  the  effects  of  her  weeping,  her  Aunt  Deborah 
came  into  the  room. 

"Why,  Margaret  McVey!  What  in  the  world's  the 
matter  of  you?"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  caught  sight  of 
the  face  in  the  mirror. 

Margaret  turned  toward  her  and  laughed  in  a  rueful 
way.  "There's  no  denying  it  auntie,"  she  said,  "I've 
been  out  in  the  woods,  having  a  good  cry,  and  see  what 
a  fright  I've  made  of  myself." 

"Crying!  about  what?"  asked  Miss  Bond  in  a  tone  of 
alarm. 

"It  would  be  difficult  to  tell,"  Margaret  replied,  "I 
guess  I'm  not  quite  well  to-day.  "  I'm  nervous  perhaps; 
but  I  felt  like  crying,  and  I  just  cried,  I  had  no  idea  it 
would  make  me  look  like  this,  it's  dreadful!  I  wouldn't 
care  if  it  was  not  for  papa,  he  will  be  distressed  to  think 
that*  I've  been  crying  and  he  can't  be  made  to  believe 
that  I  cried  for  nothing,  only  just  because  I  was  nervous 
and  felt  like  crying.  What  shall  I  do  with  my  face?" 

"Crying  for  nothing  seems  silly  employment,"  said 
Miss  Bond,  "but  it's  much  better  than  having  something 
to  cry  for.  Really,  Margaret,  I  thought  you  had  more 
sense.  Your  father  would  be  distressed  to  see  that  face 
of  yours;  you'd  better  wash  it  in  cold  water,  and  lie  down 
and  have  a  nap.  Your  father  came  home  at  three,  and 
when  I  told  him  you  were  out,  he  said  he  would  take  the 
phaeton  and  drive  around  for  Professor  Hitchcock,  who 
was  anxious  to  see  some  lots  he  talks  of  buying,  and  asked 
your  father  to  drive  him  down  to  them.  He  said  you 
could  follow  on  your  horse,  if  you  chose  to  ride  in  this 


n6  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

wind;  they  went  the  north  road;  they  can't  be  back 
before  half-past  five,  so  you'll  have  two  hours  for  a  nap. 
Lie  down,  and  I'll  call  you  at  five." 

As  Miss  Bond  closed  the  door  behind  her,  after  com- 
fortably covering  Margaret  on  the  bed,  and  drawing  down 
the  window  shades,  her  heart  ached  for  the  suffering  girl. 
She  had  not  been  deceived  by  Margaret's  evasions,  but 
believed  there  must  be  some  serious  cause  for  such  tears, 
and  she  feared  that  Rodger  Latimer  was  in  some  way 
responsible  for  them.  She  had  been  speculating  for 
weeks,  over  Mr.  Latimer's  long  continued  absence. 

"Only  ten  miles  away,"  she  had  said  to  herself,  "and 
not  been  here  since  August!"  But  kind,  cautious  woman 
that  she  was,  she  did  not  appear  to  notice  his  neglect, 
nor  would  she  have  Margaret  suspect  that  she  even  de- 
tected in  her  face  or  manner,  more  than  Margaret  chose 
to  tell  her  in  plain  speech.  Two  hours  afterward  when 
Margaret  was  ready  to  go  down  to  dinner,  she  was  not  at 
all  satisfied  with  the  appearance  of  her  pale  face,  with  its 
swollen  eyelids.  She  put  on  a  red  woolen  dress,  so  as 
to  look  as  bright  as  possible  and  as  she  entered  the'din- 
ing-room,  her  aunt  was  surprised  that  she  looked  as  well 
as  she  did.  Margaret  tarried  a  moment  beside  her  father's 
chair,  on  her  way  to  her  own  place,  to  kiss  him,  and  as 
she  chatted  in  her  usual  merry  way,  and  her  voice  gave  no 
evidence  of  a  sad  heart,  he  observed  nothing  unusual  in 
her.  The  evening  passed  in  the  customary  way  in  the 
professor's  study,  Aunt  Deborah  busy  with  her  sewing, 
and  Margaret  with  her  book.  Professor  McVey  occupied 
his  own  large  chair  in  front  of  the  bright  wood  fire;  at  his 
side  was  a  small  table,  on  which  stood  a  double  student 
lamp,  and  around  the  lamp  lay  his  foreign  papers  and 
reviews,  and  home  magazines,  to  which  he  always  gave 
his  evening  hours.  As  the  hands  of  the  clock  on  the 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


117 


mantel  were  nearing  ten,  Professor  McVey  threw  the 
end  of  his  cigar  into  the  fire,  and  leaned  back,  with  his 
eye  upon  the  dial,  as  though  watching  for  bedtime  to 
come.  Aunt  Deborah  had  gone  to  her  room  half  an  hour 
before. 

"You  look  tired,  papa,"  said  Margaret  gently,  as  she 
leaned  over  the  back  of  his  chair  and  placed  her  hands 
tenderly  on  either  side  of  his  face.  "  I  hope  you  did  not 
drive  too  far  with  Professor  Hitchcock ;  you  better  go  to 
bed." 

"  No,  I  don't  know  that  I  drove  too  far,  but  I  shall  go 
to  bed  soon.  Did  you  wish  to  drive  this  afternoon,  my 
child?  I  feared  perhaps  you  might  be  disappointed  when 
you  returned,  and  found  that  I  had  the  carriage,  but 
Professor  Hitchcock  requested  me  to  go  with  him  to  look 
at  some  lots  he  thinks  of  purchasing,  and  I  hardly  knew 
how  to  refuse  him." 

"Oh,  you  ought  to  have  gone  with  him,"  replied  Mar- 
garet; "I  didn't  care  to  drive,  it  was  a  little  chilly.  I'm 
afraid  we  shan't  have  many  more  of  our  nice  drives  this 
fall,  papa,  the  roads  are  getting  muddy. "  Margaret  leaned 
down  and  rested  her  pale  cheek  on  her  father's  bald  head. 
How  soft  and  warm  it  felt  to  him!  he  closed  his  eyes  in 
peaceful  contentment.  But  after  a  little,  he  suddenly 
opened  them  and  without  stirring  his  head,  he  said: 

"  You  have  not  told  me  Margaret,  of  your,  or  rather 
Rodger  Latimer's  good  fortune."  Margaret's  heart  gave 
a  bound;  she  raised  her  head,  but  gently,  so  as  not  to 
startle  her  father,  and  took  her  already  trembling  hands 
from  his  face.  "  Has  he  not  yet  written  to  you  of  it?" 

"I've  heard  of  nothing,  what  is  it?"  she  asked. 

"  Professor  Hitchcock  told  me  this  afternoon,  that 
Gilbert  Latimer  died  in  Boston  last  week,  and  left  Rodger 
a  million  or  more,  and  you  haven't  heard  of  it?" 


Ii8  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"No,"  replied  Margaret,  calling  up  all  her  power  of 
will  to  steady  her  voice;  "  Rodger  knows  I  don't  care  for 
money,  and  so  would  not  hasten  to  tell  me  that.  But 
who  told  Professor  Hitchcock?" 

"  He  saw  it  in  the  'Clinton  Press,'  and  also  in  a  Boston 
paper  that  he  takes."  Both  were  silent.  Professor  Mc- 
Vey's  thought  was,  "  Will  the  possession  of  that  amount  of 
money  hasten  Margaret's  marriage?"  and  Margaret  was 
trying  to  answer  to  herself  the  question,  "How  will  that 
money  influence  Rodger's  life?"  All  of  Rodger's  bitter 
talk  regarding  his  social  positon  in  Clinton,  came  quickly 
to  her  mind;  she  felt  that  she  must  be  alone.  The  appre- 
hension of  coming  ill,  that  had  possessed  her  with  such 
appalling  power  that  afternoon  in  the  woods,  again  seized 
her.  Her  limbs  trembled  beneath  her  weight,  she  leaned 
heavily  aginst  the  back  of  her  father's  chair.  She  re- 
called the  conversation  between  her  father  and  herself 
one  morning  in  August,  regarding  her  leaving  him,  when 
she  married  Rodger,  and  she  vividly  remembered  his 
distressed  face,  and  broken  voice.  Much  as  she  wished 
to  be  alone  in  her  room,  she  felt  that  she  must  first  remove 
any  possible  fear  from  the  dear  father's  heart,  and  send 
him  to  bed  in  peace. 

"  Well  papa,"  she  said  in  a  steady  voice,  as  she  again 
placed  her  hands  on  either  side  of  his  face,  and  leaned 
her  cheek  on  his  head,  "  I  don't  know  as  I'm  glad  Rodger 
has  that  money,  I  don't  believe  it  will  make  him  any 
happier,  or  a  better  man;  he'll  have  to  keep  it,  and  spend 
it.  Suppose  some  one  had  left  us  a  million,  and  we 
should  have  to  move  into  the  city  and  spend  it,  how 
unhappy  it  would  make  us;  we  never  could  be  as  happy 
anywhere  else  as  we  have  been  here.  How  happy  we 
have  been  here!"  She  gave  him  a  little  hug  with  her 
hands,  as  she  kissed  the  top  of  his  head.  "  You  dear 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  ug 

papa,"  she  continued,  "we  never  could  be*  happier  than 
we  have  been  here,  could  we?  and  we're  not  rich." 

•  "Then  my  child,"  said  the  professor,  "  I  need  not  fear 
that  you  will  marry  Rodger  soon,  and  live  in  Clinton,  if 
you  are  so  happy  here  ?" 

"No  indeed,  you  need  not,"  Margaret  cried,  as  she 
kissed  him  again  and  again.  "  But  let  us  go  to  bed  now, 
and  be  thankful  that  no  one  has  left  us  a  million.  I'll 
fix  the  fire  and  put  the  lights  out." 

Margaret  picked  the  fallen  brands  up,  and  piled  them 
together,  and  placed  the  wire  screen  before  the  fire,  chat- 
ting all  of  the  time  in  a  cheerful  way  to  her  father,  who, 
instead  of  going  up  to  bed,  sat  still  in  his  chair  looking 
at  her.  After  she  had  arranged  the  screen,  and  turned 
down  the  lamp  that  was  on  the  table  by  his  side,  she 
commenced  to  turn  off  the  light  of  the  large  lamp  that 
stood  on  the  center  table.  "Now  papa,  here  goes,"  she 
cried,  "the  last  light;  I  do  believe  you're  too  tired  to 
go  up  stairs." 

"  No  I'm  not,  but  seems  to  me  you  are  in  unusual  haste 
to  put  the  lights  out  to-night." 

"You  know,"  replied  Margaret,  "that  you  would  never 
go  to  bed  if  you  hadn't  me  to  drive  you  off;  you  would  sit 
up  all  night  and  get  sick."  She  placed  her  hand  on  her 
father's  arm  and  led  him  across  the  room,  which  was 
only  lighted  now,  by  the  hall  lamp  casting  its  rays 
through  the  open  door.  "And  I  heard  auntie  tell  Mary," 
she  pursued,  "  to  have  some  of  that  nice  corn  bread  for 
breakfast,  and  we  must  be  up  ready  for  it."  She  led  him 
across  the  hall  to  the  bottom  of  the  stairs,  and  stepped 
aside  for  him  to  pass  up  before  her.  When  half  way  up 
the  stairs,  she  reached  over  the  banister  to  turn  off  the 
hall  light,  anxl  looking  up  at  her  father  who  stood  in  the 
hall  above,  looking  down  on  her,  she  said: 


120  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"Go  on  papa,  I  wont  put  the  light  out  until  I  hear  you 
shut  your  door." 

He  waited  a  moment,  gazing  on  the  loved  face  turned 
upward  toward  him;  at  the  soft  rings  of  fluffy  hair,  the 
affectionate  blue  eyes,  and  delicate,  full  lips,  parted  with 
a  smile;  then  turned  and  went  to  his  room,  feeling  that 
indefinite  years  of  peaceful  happiness  stretched  out  before 
him. 

Poor  Margaret's  powers  of  self-control  had  been  sorely 
taxed;  as  the  sound  of  her  father's  closing  door  reached 
her  she  dropped  her  mask,  and  the  face,  that  the  leaping 
flame  of  the  expiring  hall  light  shone  on,  was  one  of 
appalling  wretchedness.  She  went  quickly  to  her  room, 
closed  and  locked  her  door,  and  threw  herself  on  her 
knees  beside  the  bed.  Bitter  waters  overflowed  her,  utter 
darkness  enveloped  her,  she  crouched  to  the  floor,  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands,  and  cried  in  her  agony:  "  Father, 
help  me!"  Margaret's  faith  in  the  existence  of  a  personal 
God  was  an  implicit  one;  that  this  personal  God  was  her 
Heavenly  Father  she  truly  believed;  a  belief  in  answers 
to  prayer,  and  a  faith  in  special  providences,  had  been 
the  faith  of  all  her  life.  The  first  impulse  of  her  heart 
in  this  dire  necessity,  was  to  fly  to  the  Omnipotent  for 
help.  Morning  and  night  as  long  as  she  could  remember, 
she  had' knelt  in  prayer.  Her  petitions  for  herself  were 
of  a  general  nature,  but  in  her  sweet  believing,  she  had 
asked  for  all  possible  good  to  come  to  her  father  and 
Rodger.  She  had  been  assured  every  Sunday  from  the 
pulpit,  that  the  condition  to  the  answer  of  any  petition 
was  faith  on  the  part  of  the  suppliant,  and  the  facts  of 
her  daily  life  seemed  to  attest  a  believing  petitioner,  and 
a  good  Giver.  But  that  irrepressible  cry  of  anguish  to 
her  God  that  night,  was  a  different  petition  from  any 
that  had  ever  before  passed  her  lips.  Her  generalizations 


RODGER    LATIMER'S   MISTAKE  12i 

had  been  of  lightning  rapidity,  in  the  few  moments  that 
she  leaned  over  her  father's  chair,  after  he  told  her  the 
news  of  Rodger's  inheritance.  From  the  facts  of  Rodger's 
dread  of  poverty,  his  desire  for  social  position,  his  infre- 
quent letters,  their  lack  of  expressed  affection,  and  that 
ominously  conventional  letter  being  written  a  week  after 
his  inheritance  of  wealth  had  been  published  in  several 
newspapers;  she  drew  the  fearful  conclusion  that  Rodger 
did  not-love  her  as  he  used  to,  and  if  he  had  not  positively 
taken  himself  away  from  her,  there  was  imminent  danger 
of  his  doing  so.  Where  could  she  go  for  help  ?  Not  to 
Aunt  Deborah,  she  could  do  nothing;  not  to  her  father, 
he  must  not  even  know  of  her  needs;  not  to  Rodger,  oh! 
hitherto,  unfailing  source  of  help  and  counsel!  No 
human  being  could  help  her,  God  must.  As  she  knelt  in 
her  desolate  agony,  she  said  to  herself:  "God  can;  He 
holds  all  men's  hearts  in  His  hand,  He  loves  me.  He'll 
bring  Rodger  back.  Oh!  Father,  Father!"  And  again 
there  went  from  the  thick  darkness  of  earth  a  despairing 
cry  into  the  unknown.  Hours  of  wrestling  and  of  anguish 
passed.  Margaret  had  not  abandoned  hope,  but  the  terrible 
fear,  the  dreadful  apprehension  that  Rodger  was  lost  to 
her,  brought  an  agony  that  was  beyond  words.  At  times 
she  would  lie  motionless  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  her  wide 
open  eyes  staring  into  the  darkness,  then  she  would  sit 
just  as  motionless  on  the  side  of  the  bed,  with  her  head 
bent  low  on  her  breast.  Hour  after  hour,  alone  in  the 
night  the  contest  raged  between  her  being  and  her  destiny. 
There  seemed  closing  around  her  iron  bars,  that  her 
girlish  hands  were  powerles-s  to  break;  there  seemed 
pressing  down  upon  her  a  load,  that  she  could  neither 
avert  nor  bear.  Rodger  was  drifting  away,  taking  all  of 
life  with  him.  Only  ten  miles  from  her!  and  it  was  as 
though  seas  and  mountains,  and  deserts  swept  between 


122  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

them.  How  she  had  loved  him,  how  trusted  him!  and  was 
this  to  be  the  end  ?  The  words  spoken  by  the  Bishop  as 
his  hands  rested  on  her  head,  when  she  knelt  in  confir- 
mation, came  to  her  mind:  "Defend,  O  Lord,  this  thy 
child."  Yes,  the  Infinite  Father  was  her  only  hope,  from 
Him  alone  could  succor  come;  and  He  would  bring  her 
out  of  this  woful  agony.  Morning  came  at  last.  Margaret 
did  not  know  whether  she  had  slept  or  not.  The  sound 
of  the  rising-bell  rung  in  the  hall  below,  for  the  half  hour 
before  breakfast,  brought  to  her  mind  the  thought  of  her 
father.  She  took  off  her  clothes,  none  of  which  she  had 
laid  aside  the  night  before,  and  proceeded  to  take  a  cold 
bath,  and  dress  herself  in  her  usual  morning  wrapper. 
She  was  faint  and  sick,  and  shivered  as  she  walked  about 
her  room.  But  she  went  down  stairs,  saw  that  the  fire 
was  burning  brightly  in  her  father's  study,  and  met  him 
as  was  her  custom,  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  as  he  came 
down  to  breakfast.  She  seated  herself  at  the  table  with 
her  back  to  the  light,  and  neither  during  breakfast  time, 
nor  in  the  hour  which  she  and  her  father  passed  together 
in  the  study  after  breakfast,  did  unobserving  Professor 
McVey  notice  her  pale  face.  As  Margaret  sat  at  his  feet 
tying  his  shoes,  and  buttoning  his  gaiters,  it  was  with 
the  greatest  difficulty  that  she  could  keep  back  her  tears. 
She  felt  so  lonely  and  stricken,  she  would  have  been  glad 
just  then,  to  fold  her  arms  around  her  father's  knees,  and 
lay  her  head  upon  them,  and  die. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  with  the  buttons,  my  child  ?" 
asked  the  professor.  Margaret  was  not  aware  that  her 
hands  were  lying-idly  across  his  feet. 

"No,  papa,"  Margaret  replied  in  a  voice  that  would 
have  arrested  the  attention  of  almost  any  other  man,  "  the 
buttons  are  all  right,  and  now  the  shoes  are  on,"  she  said, 
as  she  fastened  the  last  button,  and  gave  the  feet  a  little 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  I23 

caressing  pressure.  She  held  his  overcoat  for  him,  and 
opened  the  front  door,  giving  him  the  usual  good-bye 
kiss,  as  he  passed  out,  carefully  keeping  herself  in  the 
shadow  of  the  open  door. 

The  weeks  following  this  first  awakening  of  Margaret's 
fears,  were  weeks  of  alternating  hope  and  fear.  She  had 
always  looked  over,  at  least  one  daily  paper,  and  kept 
herself  well  informed  regarding  home  and  foreign  affairs, 
from  a  natural  desire  that  she  possessed  for  all  kinds  of 
information,  and  also  that  she  might  be  able  to  talk  with 
her  father  upon  any  subject  that  might  interest  him;  but 
during  these  weeks  of  anxiety,  she  read  the  dailies  with 
more  than  usual  attention.  She  examined  the  papers  to 
find  which  one  had  the  best  society  reports,  and  subscribed 
for  it,  and  there  was  hardly  a  day  that  she  did  not  scan 
two  or  three  Clinton  dailies,  for  their  society  notes.  She 
frequently  saw  the  name  of  Mr.  Rodger  Latimer,  a  notice 
of  him,  as  being  present  at  an  opera,  or  theater.  Some- 
times he  was  spoken  of  as  occupying  a  seat  in  Mrs.  Lun- 
dom  White's  box,  sometimes  as  a  guest  of  Mrs.  Richmond, 
or  of  Mrs.  Blackwell.  Several  times  "A  brilliant 
theater  party"  was  reported,  as  given  by  Mr.  Rodger 
Latimer,  and  she  saw  in  the  paper  at  one  time,  that  he 
had  replied  to  a  toast  at  a  Harvard  dinner,  and  again 
that  he  was  a  guest  at  some  sort  of  a  banquet.  There 
was  hardly  an  account  of  any  important  social  event,  or  of 
any  gathering  of  Clinton's  best  society  people,  in  which 
his  name  did  not  appear.  There  were  days  during  these 
weeks  of  painful  uncertainty,  in  which  her  feverish  rest- 
lessness drove  her  from  one  employment  to  another,  from 
one  room  to  another,  from  book  to  book ;  and  often  from 
the  house,  across  the  country  for  miles,  from  which  long 
walks  she  would  return  totally  exhausted.  Other  days 
she  would  hardly  leave  her  "  Sans-Souci,"  but  would  lie 


I24  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

on  her  Florentine  lounge  for  hours,  with  her  face  turned 
to  the  wall.  Several  times  she  revolved  in  her  mind  the 
feasibility  of  going  to  Clinton,  and  spending  a  few  days 
with  Miss  Sargent,  and  from  Judge  Sargent's  house, 
sending  a  note  to  Rodger,  informing  him  that  she  was 
there,  and  that  she  wished  to  see  him.  Then  as  she 
asked  herself,  what  could  she  say  to  him,  should  he 
come  in  compliance  with  her  request,  she  abandoned  that 
scheme,  as  she  had  on  second  thought  abandoned  all 
schemes  of  approaching  him,  that  she  had  harbored  from 
time  to  time.  Look  at  the  matter  in  any  way  she  might, 
she  could  discover  no  method  of  bettering  her  condition ; 
there  was  absolutely  nothing  that  she  could  do,  but  wait 
in  suffering  and  silence.  Rodger  knew  that  she  loved 
him,  knew  that  she  was  there — only  ten  miles,  less  than 
an  hour's  ride  from  his  office!  If  he  chose  to  come  to 
her,  he  could  and  would  come;  but  if  he  did  not  choose? 
God  was  her  only  refuge,  morning  and  evening,  mid- 
night and  noon;  lying  on  her  bed  in  the  darkness,  sitting 
in  the  silence  of  her  "  Sans-Souci,"  and  walking  far  out 
on  the  country  roads;  her  prayers  were  unceasing,  that 
she  might  be  guided,  and  that  Rodger  might  be  influenced 
by  some  supernatural  power  to  return  to  her. 

Miss  Bond,  unlike  Professor  McVey,  noticed  every 
change  of  Margaret's  face,  with  the  natural  solicitude  of 
a  kind  woman  accustomed  all  her  life  long,  to  think  of 
and  care  for  others.  It  distressed  her  severely,  to  see 
the  color  leaving  the  girl's  cheeks,  the  large  eyes  grow- 
ing larger,  and  the  lips  losing  their  beautiful  curves. 
Deborah  was  not  a  woman  of  intense  feeling,  but  she 
possessed  quick  sympathies,  and  was  sorely  grieved  by 
Margaret's  sufferings.  Although  Margaret  had  never 
talked  with  her  regarding  her  engagement  to  Rodger 
Latimer,  she  perfectly  understood  the  relation  that  the 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE  I25 

young  people  held  to  each  other;  and  she  as  perfectly 
understood  that  Rodger's  unfaithfulness  was  the  cause 
of  all  of  Margaret's  sorrow.  She  knew,  as  well  as  Mar- 
garet herself,  that  nothing  that  she  could  do,  or  say, 
would  avail  to  heal  her  wound,  or  have  the  least  influence 
over  Rodger.  As  soon  as  her  father  was  out  of  the  house, 
all  of  Margaret's  assumed  cheerfulness  of  voice  and 
manner  was  laid  aside,  and  she  looked  as  wretched  as  she 
felt.  She  knew  that  she  could  not  conceal  from  her  aunt, 
week  after  week,  the  fact  that  she  was  suffering,  and  she 
did  not  make  the  attempt.  So  these  two  women  lived 
under  the  same  roof,  and  ate  at  the  same  table,  during 
all  of  these  weeks;  one  slowly  drifting  farther  and  farther 
into  darkness;  the  other  standing  by,  in  utter  help- 
lessness, unable  to  give  either  aid  or  comfort. 

In  December,  Margaret  received  another  letter  from 
Rodger.  When  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  familiar  writing, 
as  it  was  handed  her  by  the  clerk  in  the  postoffice,  the 
blood  surged  up  into  her  head,  and  for  a  moment  she 
feared  falling  to  the  floor.  She  held  it  tightly  in  her 
hand,  and  hastened  home.  Who  could  tell  what  that  letter 
might  contain?  Possibly  words  of  explanation,  and  plead- 
ings for  forgiveness,  and  all  of  the  old  utterances  of  love 
so  long  dear  to  her!  Perhaps  she  had  been  hasty  in  her 
judgments;  men  are  so  different  from  women!  Dear  Rod- 
ger! If  he  did  really  love  her,  and  came  back  to  her,  how 
happy  she  would  be,  and  how  gladly  she  would  let  the 
past  go,  and  never  speak  of  it.  She  locked  herself  in  her 
own  room,  and  sat  down  with  hat  and  cloak  on,  and  tore 
open  the  envelope — only  one  small  sheet,  and  no  writing 
on  the  last  page,  which  was  clear  and  white.  The  thought 
that  it  was  nothing  more  than  one  of  the  short  letters  he 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  writing  for  months,  seized  her; 
with  sickening  fear  and  trembling  fingers  she  unfolded 


126  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

the  sheet  of  paper — one  page,  and  part  of  another,  written 
the  day  before.  The  address  was,  "  Dear  Margaret,"  not 
even  my  dear  Margaret.  She  let  the  letter  slip  to  the 
floor,  and  leaned  her  head  on  the  table  by  her  side,  in 
blind,  unthinking  misery.  She  did  not  weep,  she  did  not 
think,  she  uttered  no  reproach  or  prayer.  The  keen  dis- 
appointment showed  how  far  from  dead  was  hope  in  her 
heart.  An  hour  afterward  she  read  the  conventionally 
friendly  letter,  and  mechanically  placed  it  in  a  drawer, 
where  she  kept  the  letters  Rodger  had  written  her  for  the 
few  months  past,  apart  from  those  of  the  years  before. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

The  next  door  neighbor  on  one  side  of  Professor  Mc- 
Vey,  was  a  family  by  the  name  of  Herman.  Mr.  Herman 
was  a  member  of  a  small  manufacturing  establishment  of 
some  kind,  in  Clinton.  He  was  punctual  in  business, 
paid  his  debts,  lived  up  to  his  agreements,  was  an  indul- 
gent husband  and  a  kind  father.  Every  Sunday  morning 
found  him  in  his  church  pew,  and  every  pleasant  Sunday 
afternoon  found  him  out  driving  with  his  family.  His 
greatest  dissipations  were  a  mild  cigar  and  a  glass  of 
claret.  Perhaps  it  was  in  obedience  to  some  law  of  nature, 
looking  to  the  balancing  of  the  race  from  generation 
to  generation,  that  this  equable,  practical  man,  had 
married  an  eccentric  woman.  Whatever  the  cause,  the 
fact  was,  that  Mr.  Herman  when  about  twenty-six  years 
of  age,  had  married  Isabel  Wasmansdorf,  who  was  the 
daughter  of  a  New  England  mother,  and  a  German  father. 
Mrs.  Wasmansdorf  was  first  cousin  to  Mrs.  Lundom 
White's  mother.  In  1870  Mr.  Herman  located  himself 
in  business  in  Clinton,  and  purchased  a  pleasant  house  in 
Edgewood,  next  to  Professor  McVey,  for  a  home  for  his 
wife  and  infant  daughter.  Mrs.  Herman  was  a  woman  of 
theories  and  moods,  and  while  she  was  not  of  unkind 
heart,  she  was  an  irresponsible  talker.  Her  emotions 
were  turbulent,  and  when  excited,  she  would  rattle  on 
about  people  and  facts,  in  an  illogical  and  inconsequential 
way,  that  sealed  the  lips  of  every  cautious  person  in  her 
presence,  for  fear  that  the  simplest  words  they  might 
utter,  would  be  misrepresented  sometime  in  the  future. 
She  indulged  in  ill-natured  gossip  about  very  few  people, 
but  when  she  was  speaking  of  her  somewhat  removed 
127 


128  RODGER  LATIMER'S    MISTAKE 

cousin,  Mrs.  Lundom  White, — between  whom  and  herself 
there  was  no  love  lost — her  temper,  rather  than  her  judg- 
ment, was  responsible  for  her  utterances.  Mrs.  White 
declared  that  Belle  Herman  was  a  ridiculous  woman,  who 
made  a  perfect  fright  of  herself  in  dress,  and  was  not  to 
be  depended  upon;  a  woman  with  whom  she  would  hold 
none  but  the  most  conventional  relations. 

"  I  really  am  afraid  to  have  her  in  my  house,"  she  said 
to  her  sister,  Miss  Edwards.  "  You  never  know  what  she 
will  say  about  you  as  soon  as  she  is  out  of  your  sight,  and 
how  she  twists  things!  I  don't  know  as  she  means  to  tell 
downright  lies,  but  it  amounts  to  the  same  thing  in  the 
end,  for  she  never  gives  a  truthful  account  of  anything, 
or  anybody ;  and  then  how  she  does  talk !  and  on  what 
ridiculous  subjects.  Say  what  you  like,  she  isn't  well 
balanced." 

Mrs.  Herman  quite  prided  herself  on  her  relationship  to 
the  wealthy  Mrs.  Lundom  White  of  Clinton.  The  two 
ladies  left  their  New  England  homes  for  the  West,  about 
the  same  time,  but  under  different  circumstances.  Mrs. 
White,  as  the  wife  of  an  opulent  iron  man,  moved  into 
an  elegantly  appointed  home,  and  before  many  years  had 
passed,  occupied  a  leading  place  in  society.  Mrs.  Her- 
man, as  the  wife  of  a  young  man  just  beginning  business 
for  himself,  entered  a  pretty,  but  inexpensive  home  in  a 
suburban  town.  Her  father  in  New  England  was  a  man 
of  larger  wealth  than  the  father  of  Mrs.  White,  and  in  her 
childhood  she  had  lived  in  a  much  more  comfortable  way 
than  had  her  cousin.  As  soon  as  each  woman  was  ad- 
justed to  her  personal  surroundings,  and  had  had  time  to 
measure  advantages  with  her  immediate  neighbors  and 
acquaintances,  Mrs.  White  was  filled  with  exultation  over 
her  good  luck;  and  while  Mrs.  Herman  was  contented 
with  her  relative  position,  among  her  Edgewood  acquaint- 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  129 

ances,  her  soul  was  filled  with  envy,  as  soon  as  she 
encompassed  Mrs.  White's  grandeur.  In  her  heart,  she 
berated  the  fortune  that  had  been  so  lavish  of  favors  to 
her  poorer  cousin.  She  felt  that  Mrs.  White's  brougham, 
and  victoria,  and  saddle  horse,  were  personal  affronts  to 
herself,  as  long  as  she  could  afford  only  a  comfortable 
family  carriage.  And  the  sight  of  Mrs.  White's  rugs, 
cut-glass  and  pictures,  soured  her  temper  to  that  degree, 
that  when  surrounded  by  them,  it  was  with  the  greatest 
difficulty  she  could  speak  pleasantly  to  the  lady  of  the 
house,  or  to  any  guests  that  might  happen  to  be  present, 
when  she  was  visiting  Mrs.  White.  But  with  all  of  her 
envy  and  anger,  she  determined  not  to  lose  sight  of  any 
practical  advantage  that  might  accrue  to  herself,  from  her 
cousin's  wealthy  marriage,  and  her  active  imagination 
foresaw  many  ways  in  which  she  might  make  Mrs.  White's 
money  and  position,  subserve  her  own  pleasure  and  profit. 
But  when  within  the  first  year  of  her  residence  in  Edge- 
wood,  Mrs.  White  had  made  her  feel  that  there  was  not 
to  be  the  least  intimacy  between  the  families,  her  wrath 
knew  no  bounds.  What  little  practical  sense  she  had, 
combined  with  her  pride,  kept  her  silent  upon  the  subject, 
when  talking  with  any  one  besides  her  husband,  through 
all  of  the  succeeding  years,  in  which  Mrs.  White  never 
deviated  from  the  course  which  she  had  first  lain  down. 
But  poor  Mr.  Herman  had  the  full  benefit  of  his  wife's 
wrath. 

"To  think,  what  airs  Hat  Edwards  takes  on  herself, 
and  toward  me,  too, "  said  Mrs.  Herman  to  her  husband, 
at  the  breakfast  table,  one  morning  late  in  December, 
when  she  had,  the  day  before,  paid  a  visit  to  Mrs.  White, 
for  the  purpose  of  seeing  some  new  dresses  which  she  had 
heard  that  lady  had  received  from  Europe,  through  a 
friend  who  had  just  returned.  Mr.  Herman  was  absent 

9  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake. 


130 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


when  hfe  wife  reached  home,  so  she  had  had  no  oppor- 
tunity of  relating  to  him  the  result  of  her  visit  to  her 
cousin,  until  she  met  him  at  the  breakfast  table.  Whe~n 
Mrs.  Herman  spoke  of  Mrs.  White  in  society,  it  was  as 
her  "dear  Cousin  Hattie;"  when  talking  to  her  husband, 
the  dear  cousin  was  designated  as  "Hat  Edwards,"  or 
simply  "Hat,"  if  her  anger  waxed  particularly  hot.  "I 
wanted  to  see  that  new  street  dress  of  hers,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  that  Mrs.  Higgins  brought  her  from  Paris,  and  she 
knew  it  as  well  as  I  did.  but  to  do  my  very  best  I  couldn't 
even  get  her  up  to  her  bedroom.  There  she  sat  all  of  the 
time  in  that  library,  and  was  so  polite,  so  dreadfully  kind, 
but  I  could  no  more  get  near  her,  than  I  could  near  Queen 
Victoria.  I  was  so  mad,  I  could  have  bitten  her  head  off; 
so  sweet,  and  smiling,  and  polite — and  then  Mrs.  Camp- 
bell came  in  to  luncheon — I  know  she  was  invited,  for 
Hat  had  a  regular  five-story-and-a-mansard  luncheon. 
She  was  exactly  as  formal  to  me  as  she  was  to  Mrs. 
Campbell;  no  one  would  ever  have  dreamed  that  I  was  a 
relative.  I  declare  I  don't  believe  that  I'll  go  there 
again;  here  I  have  spent  the  whole  day,  tired  myself  to 
death,  and  I  don't  know  a  thing  more  about  her  than  I 
did  before  I  went.  I  didn't  see  any  of  her  dresses,  and 
how  on  earth  shall  I  make  that  new  dress  of  mine  ?  And 
I  don't"  know  anything  about  her  reception  that  they  say 
she  is  going  to  have,  and  I  wanted  to  hear  all  about  that 
dinner  at  General  Austin's,  that  last  evening's  paper  said 
she  attended.  Dear  me,  it  is  too  bad !" 

An  hour  after  this  outburst,  Mrs.  Herman  rang  Pro- 
fessor McVey's  door  bell.  Margaret  was  lying  on  her 
Florentine  settee,  with  closed  eyes,  going  over  in  her 
mind,  the  same  old  routine  of  thought.  A  hundred  times 
she  had  asked  herself  the  same  question,  raised  the  same 
answering  hypothesis;  rejected  it,  grasped  it  again, 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  I3! 

thrown  it  aside,  and  reached  out  for  some  more  probable 
explanation  of  Rodger's  conduct.  A  hundred  times  she 
cried  out  that  she  could  not  bear  it,  that  the  dreadful 
suspense  would  kill  her,  and  yet  she  lived  on,  growing  a 
little  thinner  and  paler  every  day,  but  never  relaxing  for 
a  moment  in  her  gentle  care  of  her  father,  or  uttering  a 
cry  in  the  hearing  of  her  aunt.  She  was  aroused  from 
her  painful  reflections  by  the  entrance  of  her  aunt,  who 
said  to  her: 

"Mrs.  Herman's  in  the  parlor,  and  wishes  to  see  you." 

"Must  I  see  that  woman,  auntie?"  asked  Margaret. 
"  Is  it  anything  special,  or  do  you  suppose  she  has  just 
come  in  for  a  call?  I  wonder  if  she  wants  that  Ken- 
sington pattern  for  her  table  scarf;  she  spoke  of  making 
one  for  Christmas." 

"I  don't  know, "  replied  Miss  Bond;  "I  stopped  and 
talked  with  her  for  ten  minutes  to  see  if  I  could  find  out 
what  she  came  for  and  save  you  the  trouble  of  seeing  her, 
but  she  asked  so  positively  for  you  I  had  to  come." 

"I  suppose  I  must  see  her,"  said  Margaret,  as  she 
smoothed  her  hair  down  with  her  hands.  When  she 
entered  the  parlor,  which  was  across  the  hall  from  Pro- 
fessor McVey's  study,  Mrs.  Herman,  who  was  a  slight 
woman,  skipped  across  the  room  to  meet  her,  uttering  at 
the  same  time  unintelligible  monosyllables  in  a  sort  of 
cooing  sound.  She  placed  her  hands  on  Margaret's 
shoulders  and  kissed  her  repeatedly,  after  which  she 
placed  one  arm  round  her,  and  gave  her  a  close  hug. 

"You  darling  pet,"  she  cried;  "  it's  an  age  since  I  saw 
you. "  Then  she  kissed  her  again.  "  How  pale  you  look, 
but  how  pretty  you  are!  You  have  this  horrid  cold, 
haven't  you?  It's  just  dreadful,  but  everybody  has  it  this 
awful  weather.  I  didn't  sleep  at  all  last  night,  I  coughed 
so,  and  Mr,  Herman  is  sick  too,  and  both  the  children, 


132 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


and  I  declare  Matilda  is  coming  down,  and  she  is  such  a 
good  nurse;  what  could  I  do  without  her?  Novalis,  the 
dear  little  pet,  has  had  a  dreadful  time  for  a  week,  and 
it's  too  bad,  for  our  weather  is  so  good  I  wanted  him  to 
be  out  of  doors;  it's  so  much  healthier  to  be  out  of  doors, 
don't  you  think  so?  Mr.  Herman  and  I  do;  we've  been 
out  so  much  this  last  week,  and  Mr.  Herman  says  he 
never  felt  better  in  his  life  than  he  does  now;  isn't  it 
delightful?" 

Mrs.  Herman  had  been  running  on  without  stopping  for 
breath,  her  arm  around  Margaret,  who  patiently  waited 
for  the  pause  which  she  knew  would  come  after  Mrs. 
Herman  had  run  herself  down  in  her  contradictory  gar- 
rulousness. 

"Pray  be  seated,  Mrs.  Herman,"  said  Margaret.  "I'm 
glad  to  knew  that  Mr.  Herman  is  well ;  I  hope  the  chil- 
dren will  soon  be  over  their  colds." 

"  Dear  me, "  said  Mrs.  Herman,  "the  children  are  just 
as  well  as  any  little  tots  can  be;  they're  all  well  but  me, 
but  then  I'm  never  well.  Mr.  Herman  says  it's  al  1  because  I 
do  so  much;  that  I  do  more  than  any  two  ladies  in  the  city 
would  think  of  doing.  He  says  I  read  myself  to  death, 
but  I  can't  be  lazy;  I  never  could.  Now,  last  night — 
were  you  out  last  night?  Wasn't  it  lovely?  Such  a 
moon!"  Mrs.  Herman,  who  never  stopped  for  a  reply  to 
any  of  her  questions,  but  jumped  abruptly  from  one  sub- 
ject to  another,  leaned  over  and  placed  one  hand  on  Mar- 
garet's knee,  as  she  continued:  "What  a  lovely  wrapper 
that  is!  Was  it  made  in  the  city?  You're  just  a  poem 
sitting  there  in  that  wrapper.  I  must  have  a  new  dress, 
and  I  don't  know  what  to  get.  You  can  wear  anything, 
you're  so  pretty.  I'm  going  to  ask  Mr.  Herman  to  get 
me  such  a  wrapper  as  this,  but  I'm  not  so  pretty  as  you 
are;  it  wouldn't  look  as  well  on  me.  Isn't  it  too  bad  that 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  133 

we  have  to  grow  old  and  ugly  ?  But  Mr.  Herman  says  that 
I  am  just  as  pretty  as  I  ever  was."  Mrs.  Herman  covered 
her  face  with  both  of  her  hands  for  an  instant,  her  fingers 
outspread  over  her  eyes,  and  with  a  simpering  laugh  went 
on:  "Ridiculous,  isn't  it,  to  call  a  woman  like  me  pretty  ? 
But  then  it's  well  enough  for  every  husband  to  think  his 
wife  is  good  looking,  don't  you  think  so  ?  I  don't  believe 
married  people  ought  to  get  prosy,  and  not  love  each 
other,  do  you?  Mr.  Herman  is  just  as  much  of  a  beau  as 
he  was  before  we  were  married,  and  I  think  it's  nice.  I 
got  so  tired  in  the  city  yesterday  that  I've  been  cross  ever 
since.  I  don't  think  a  woman  ought  to  be  cross,  do  you  ? 
But  Mr.  Herman  says  I'm  never  cross,  but  you  see  I'm  so 
worried  about  this  dress;  it's  my  best  street  dress,  and  I 
went  in  to  see  Cousin  Hattie  about  it,  she  has  such 
exquisite  taste;  the  dress  she  had  on  was  just  a  dream. 
You  know  I  promised  Cousin  Hattie  that  I  would  come 
and  see  how  your  father  was.'  What  a  dear  man  he  is! 
He  knows  so  much.  Dear  pet!  How  pretty  you  are!" 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Herman  rapturously,  placing  both  of  her 
hands  on  Margaret's  lap,  as  she  was  sitting  on  the  sofa 
beside  her;  "but  your  dear  father  is  well,  isn't  he?  I 
told  Cousin  Hattie  I  thought  he  was,  or  I  should  have 
heard  of  it.  She  said  she  hadn't  seen  your  father  for  ever 
so  long.  You  remember  Cousin  Hattie,  don't  you?  She's 
coming  out  to  spend  a  week  with  me  next  summer.  I 
haven't  asked  her  yet,  but  I'm  going  to  next  June  or  May 
perhaps,  when  the  apple  trees  are  in  blossom;  they're  so 
sweet,  don't  you  think  so?" 

Margaret  declared  that  she  did,  which  declaration  Mrs. 
Herman  never  heard,  for  she  was  miles  away  from  the 
apple  blossoms  before  Margarat  could  give  her  assent. 

"  I  didn't  see  any  of  Cousin  Hattie's  street  dresses," 
she  rattled  on,  "  for  she  had  on  a  tea-gown,  but  that  was 


134  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

just  too  lovely  for  anything.  Cousin  Marie  came  in  from 
a  drive  while  I  was  there,  and  she  had  on  a  tailor-made 
dress,  and  it  was  lovely  too,  but  I  couldn't  wear  such  a 
dress  as  that,  I'm  so  slight.  I  don't  think  I'm  thin,  do 
you?  Mr.  Herman  says  I'm  just  plump.  I  wouldn't  be 
thin.  I  don't  blame  men  for  not  liking  skinny  women, 
do  you?  But  Marie  is  so  much  larger  than  I  am;  she's 
tall  and  large.  Do  you  know  her?" 

"No,"  replied  Margaret,  "I  never  saw  her." 
"Marie  wears  white  so  much,"  said  Mrs.  Herman  dash- 
ing on,  "but  I  couldn't  weai;  a  light  colored  street  dress; 
just  imagine  a  light  dress,  back  and  forth  on  the  cars." 
Mrs.  Herman  clasped  her  hands  together,  and  filled  the 
room  with  her  thin,  tinkling  laughter.  "It'll  do  for 
Marie,"  she  continued,  "for  she  has  cousin  Hattie's  car- 
riage. Do  you  know  Miss  McVey,  what  I  heard  ?  They 
say  cousin  Marie  is  to  be  married  soon — that  Mr.  Latimer, 
you  remember  him,  don't  you  ? — is  very  devoted  to  her,  and 
that  they  are  to  be  married  soon.  I  never  knew  him,  but 
I  knew  his  father  a  little;  he  was  such  a  sweet  man!  don't 
you  think  so?  I  saw  Mrs.  Holland  in  Smith  &:  Green's 
and  she  told  me  all  about  it.  I  hadn't  seen  her  for  six 
months.  Mrs.  Holland  don't  know  cousin  Hattie  very 
well,  but  she  often  meets  her  on  the  board  of  the  Old 
Ladies'  Home,  and  she  has  seen  cousin  Marie  at  the 
opera.  Cousin  Hattie  always  has  a  box.  I  don't  think 
those  boxes  are  as  good  to  see  from,  as  the  parquet  chairs, 
do  you  ?  O,  about  Marie;  Mrs.  Holland  says  Mr.  Lat- 
imer is  with  Marie  at  the  opera  every  night;  I  mean 
when  there  is  one,  and  Mrs.  Holland  is  there;  Mr.  Lat- 
imer is  very  wealthy,  you  know.  Some  cousin  of  his  died 
in  India  last  summer,  and  left  him  two  hundred  millions, 
or  two  hundred  thousand,  I  don't  know  which,  but  he's 
awfully  rich  any  way,  and  he's  going  to  marry  Marie 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


'35 


Edwards  soon.  She  don't  like  me  I  know;  she's  a  smart 
girl,  she  always  was,  but  she  hasn't  a  cent  in  the  world. 
Cousin  Hattie  gives  her  all  of  her  clothes;  she  is  hand- 
some, but  not  as  handsome  as  she  thinks  she  is.  I  knew 
the  Edwards  girls  before  they  ever  heard  of  Clinton." 
The  rancorous  feeling  against  the  opulent  Mrs.  Lundom 
White  was  rising  in  Mrs.  Herman's  heart,  and  with  the 
thought  that  Cousin  Marie  might  marry  as  wealthy  a 
man  as  Cousin  Hattie  had,  came  feelings  of  intense  dis- 
like toward  Marie  also,  but  her  natural  caution  enabled 
her  to  curb  her  resentment.  Fortunately  she  was  too 
much  engrossed  by  her  feelings  toward  the  "  Edwards 
girls"  to  notice  Margaret's  increased  pallor,  or  the  fact 
that  she  had  placed  her  hands  under  her  crossed  arms,  so 
that  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  Mrs.  Herman  to 
have  touched  one  of  the  cold  fingers,  had  she  been  dis- 
posed. Poor,  tortured  Margaret,  found  that  the  efforts 
she  had  been  making  for  weeks  to  control  and  suppress 
herself,  in  the  presence  of  her  father,  had  developed  a 
power  that  enabled  her  to  simulate  calmness  and  uncon- 
cern under  this  ordeal. 

"Will  your  cousin,  Mrs.  White,  be  pleased  to  have 
her  sister  marry  Mr.  Latimer  ?"  asked  Margaret  in  a  pause 
of  Mrs.  Herman's  talk. 

"As  a  matter  of  course  she'll-  be  delighted ;  why  shouldn't 
she?  Marie  has  no  home,  and  I  don't  believe  that  Hattie 
cares  to  have  her  live  with  her,  though  it  will  be  very 
nice  for  Cousin  Hattie  to  have  her  live  in  Clinton,'  in  an 
elegant  home,  with  her  own  carriage  and  all  that.  It's 
not  every  day  that  two  sisters  have  such  luck." 

"What  kind  of  a  girl  is  your  Cousin  Marie?"  asked 
Margaret. 

"  She  is  called  beautiful;  you  never  saw  her  ?  She  don't 
look  at  all  like  Cousin  Hattie.  She's  large  and  fat ;  I  don't 


136  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

think  she  is  so  very  handsome,  although  her  eyes  are 
lovely,  and  she  has  lovely  hair.  She  isn't  my  first  cousin, 
you  know,  so  it  isn't  so  bad  if  I  don't  like  her.  I 
don't  think  it  is  right  for  people  to  talk  about  their  own 
blood,  but  she  is  only  my  third  cousin,  and  that  isn't  very 
near,  do  you  think  it  is?  Mrs.  Holland  says  everybody 
thinks  Marie  is  beautiful;  the  most  beautiful  girl  in  Clin- 
ton— I  guess  she  said,  but  I  don't  think  so,  she's  too 
big."  Mrs.  Herman  arranged  her  wrap  around  her  own 
slight  shoulders,  as  she  pursued  her  subject:  "  She  is  sort 
of  slow  and  heavy,  she  doesn't  say  much :  I  never  heard  her 
talk  at  all,  but  then  I  never  saw  much  of  her.  Cousin 
Hattie  is  always  urging  me  to  go  and  see  them,  but  they 
live  so  far  up,  and  I  always  have  so  much  to  do  in  the 
city  that  I  never  have  time;  it's  real  tiresome  to  spend  a 
day  in  the  city  shopping,  don't  you  think  so?  Last 
Thanksgiving,  no,  the  year  before — I  declare!  how  time 
flies;  Mr.  Herman  and  I  dined  with  Cousin  Hattie,  and 
Marie  was  there,  that's  the  most  I  ever  saw  of  her.  She 
was  there  only  to  dinner;  just  at  the  table,  I  don't  know 
where  she  went  after  dinner  up  stairs,  or  off  for  a  drive, 
perhaps,  but  I  don't  think  it  was  treating  Mr.  Herman 
and  me  with  much  attention,  to  go  off  in  that  way,  do 
you?  It  didn't  make  any  difference  about  the  good  time 
we  had,  for  she  was  just  as  stupid  as  she  could  be  when 
she  was  there;  I  don't  like  stupid  people,  do  you?  but  I 
must  go  home;  I  promised  to  take  darlingNovalis  down 
street.  I  wish  I  knew  what  to  do  about  my  dress.  How 
nice  it  is  to  have  no  more  trouble  about  one's  dresses  than 
Cousin  Hattie  has,  and  if  Marie  marries  Mr.  Latimer,  she 
can  have  everything  she  wants  without  any  trouble  to  her- 
self. I  used  to  see  Mr.  Latimer  around  here,  but  I 
haven't  seen  him  in  Edgewood  for  a  long  time.  Don't  he 
ever  come  here  any  more?  didn't  he  go  to  Europe  once 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  137 

with  you  and  your  father,  or  was  that  some  other  young 
man?  I  don't  believe  Marie  Edwards  would  marry  him, 
if  he  wasn't  rich,  and  I  declare  I  don't  blame  her  for  lik- 
ing money;  it's  nice  to  have  all  the  servants  and  car- 
riages one  wishes,  and  not  have  to  bother  one's  head 
about  clothes;  don't  you  think  so?" 

"  Did  Mrs.  White  tell  you  of  her  sister's  engagement?" 
asked  Margaret. 

"  No,  I  didn't  see  her  after  Mrs.  Holland  told  me  what 
she  knew." 

"Then  she  knew,"  said  Margaret,  in  a  voice  she  could 
hardly  control,  "  that  your  cousin,  Miss  Edwards,  was 
engaged  to  Mr.  Latimer?"  and  involuntarily  her  left 
thumb  folded  into  the  palm  of  the  hand,  and  moved  back 
and  forth  across  the  diamond  ring  on  her  third  finger. 

"  Well  now,  it's  all  mixed  up  in  my  mind.  I  don't  think 
she  did  say  Marie  was  really  positively  engaged,  and 
that  she  knew  it,  for  if  she'd  said  that,  I  would  have  been 
angry  that  Hattie  hadn't  told  me  all  about  it  when  I  was 
there;  don't  you  think  she  ought  to  have  told  me?  But 
she  said  every  one  was  talking  about  it,  and  that  Mr. 
Latimer  was  dead  in  love  with  Marie,  and  she  had  been 
told  they  were  to  be  married  soon.  She  knows  them 
both  by  sight,  that's  all;  she  noticed  them  so  often  in 
Hattie's  box.  She  inquired  who  they  were,  and  a  gentle- 
man friend  of  hers  told  her  the  lady  was  Miss  Edwards, 
a  sister  to  Mrs.  White,  and  the  gentleman  was  a  Mr. 
Latimer,  who  was  soon  to  marry  Miss  Edwards.  I  think 
that  was  all  she  knew,  but  that  looks  as  though  Marie 
was  going  to  marry  him,  don't  you  think  so?  But  I  must 
go  home,"  declared  Mrs.  Herman,  as  she  rose  from  the 
sofa.  "Do  come  and  see  me,"  she  said,  as  she  kissed 
Margaret,  "and  tell  me  what  to  do  with  that  dreadful 
dress  of  mine;  you  never  come  over  any  more."  She 


138  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

placed  her  hands  on  the  tips  of  Margaret's  shoulders,  and 
slowly  moved  them  up  to  her  neck,  resting  them  against 
the  lace  ruffle  in  the  neck  of  her  dress.  "  What  a  sweet 
little  neck  you  have,"  she  said.  "How  pretty  you  are! 
This  is  a  new  dress,  isn't  it?  I  wish  my  dress  was  done; 
here  it  is  the  last  of  December,  and  my  best  winter  dress 
not  done!  Don't  you  think  it  is  too  bad?  but  we've  had 
such  a  dreadful  time  this  fall,  company  all  of  the  time, 
and  Novalis  sick,  and  Edith  was  not  well  all  last  month. 
I  have  had  just  a  dreadful  time,  and  dear  me,  there  is 
that  Browning  Club  to-night!  I  don't  see  how  I  can  go, 
but  I  must !" 

Would  the  woman  never  go  ?  thought  Margaret,  never 
take  her  hands  off  of  her  shoulders  and  her  eyes  off  of  her 
face,  and  leave  her  alone  to  herself? 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

When  evening  came,  Margaret  and  her  father  were  sit- 
ting in  the  study  with  their  books  and  papers.  She  was 
holding  an  open  book  in  her  hand,  on  which  her  eyes  were 
fixed,  but  she  was  neither  reading  nor  thinking  of  the  book 
in  the  least.  Between  her  eyes  and  its  pages  was  a  girl 
robed  in  white,  with  lovely  eyes,  of  no  particular  hue, 
and  beautiful  hair.  Margaret  had  fallen  into  the  habit 
of  idly  holding  an  open  book  while  her  thoughts  were 
upon  Rodger,  when  she  and  her  father  were  sitting 
together  in  the  evenings,  so  that  there  would  be  no  ap- 
parent change  in  the  habitual  occupation  of  their  eve- 
nings. The  long  continued  silence  of  the  room,  unbroken 
by  the  rustling  df  her  father's  paper,  or  any  movement 
on  his  part,  suddenly  arrested  her  attention,  and  she  raised 
her  eyes  to  meet  those  of  her  father  fixed  intently  on  her 
face,  with  an  anxious  expression.  It  was  such  a  question- 
ing look  as  she  had  never  before  seen  him  fix  upon  her. 
Her  face  flushed,  she  hesitated  a  moment,  then  went  to 
him,  taking  the  paper  from  his  knee  as  she  seated  herself 
on  his  lap,  and  leaned  her  head  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  What  is  it,  papa  ?"  she  asked,  as  she  placed  one  of 
her  hands  against  the  side  of  his  face. 

"  My  child,  you  do  not  look  well,"  replied  the  professor, 
as  he  put  both  of  his  arms  around  her.  His  voice  was 
full  of  tenderness  and  solicitude;  for  the  first  time  he  had 
that  evening  noticed  the  change  in  his  daughter,  and 
was  startled  by  the  sight  of  her  pale  face. 

"I  am  not  quite  well,  papa,"  said  Margaret;  "in  fact, 
I  am  almost  sick.  Mrs.  Herman  was  in  this  morning  for 
an  hour  or  more,  and  she  spoke' of  my  dreadful  cold." 


14° 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


"  Is  it  only  a  cold,  my  darling?" 

"What  else  can  it  be?  I  took  cold  three  weeks  ago, 
and  I  haven't  been  well  since." 

"Yes,  I  knew  you  took  a  slight  cold  that  evening  .at 
the  college,  but  I  did  not  apprehend  anything  serious 
would  come  from  so  slight  an  exposure.  You  look  se- 
riously ill." 

"Well,  I'm  not  seriously  ill,  papa,  you  may  be  sure  of 
that,  but  colds  hang  on  so  long  this  winter.  Mrs.  Her- 
man said  that  all  of  her  family  were  sick  with  them,  Mr. 
Herman  and  all,  and  that  Novalis  is  really  quite  sick. 
Why,  Mrs.  Herman  looked  miserable;  I  wonder  if  I  look 
as  bad  as  she  does." 

"You  look  very  sick,  my  child. " 

"  How  can  I  look  very  sick  when  I'm  not  sick  at  all  ?" 
Margaret  hastened  to  say.  "  It's  only  a  mean,  miserable 
cold;  if  I  thought  I  looked  as  thin  and  pale  as  Mrs. 
Herman  does  with  her  cold,  I  would  take  malt  or 
quinine. " 

"Take  some  of  both,  my  child,"  said  the  professor; 
"have  we  any  in  the  house?  You  better  send  George 
down  to  Howland's  for  some  to-night,  if  we  have  not." 

Margaret  saw  that  her  father  was  thoroughly  alarmed 
about  her  and  set  herself  at  work  to  allay  his  fears.  "  No, 
we  wont  send  George  out  to-night,"  she  said,  "but  if 
auntie  hasn't  malt  and  quinine  on  her  closet  shelf,  I'll 
send  him  in  the  morning.  But  I  know  she  has  both ;  you 
have  no  idea  papa,  what  a  wonderful  closet  that  is  of 
auntie's.  It  has  everything  in  it;  I  know  there  are  a 
hundred  bottles  of  medicines  on  the  shelf,  all  sorts  of 
cough  mixtures  and  twenty  little  homoeopathic  bottles — 
I  really  believe  auntie  is  an  eclectic — and  there's  no  end 
of  boxes  and  little  rolls  of  things.  You  just  cut  your  finger 
once,  and  see  how  many  kinds  of  salve  she  will  bring  out 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE  I4i 

for  you  to'choose  from,  ana  all  of  them  are  sure  cures, 
the  best  in  the  world.  I  know  she  has  quinine  and  malt 
too,  for  I  heard  her  say  the  other  day,  that  Americans 
were  coming  to  be  a  nation  of  nervous  invalids,  that  they 
overworked,  and  brought  on  nervous  exhaustion,  and 
needed  tonics,  and  concentrated  nourishment;  and  that  is 
exactly  what  malt  and  quinine  are,  and  she  would  be  sure 
to  have  on  her  shelf  what  the  great  American  people 
universally  needed.  But  I  don't  believe  I  need  either;  it 
can't  be  that  I  look  as  Mrs.  Herman  does  with  her  cold. 
Do  I  look  so  dreadfully,  papa?" 

Margaret  sat  up  straight  on  her  father's  knees,  and 
placed  her  hands  on  his  shoulders,  and  looked  him  full  in 
the  face  as  she  continued,  "  Now  take  a  good  look  at  me 
papa,  and  tell  me  the  truth." 

The  professor  did  look  earnestly  into  the  vivacious, 
laughing  face.  "Really,  my  child,"  he  said.  '' You  do 
look  better  than  when  you  were  sitting  on  the  sofa  by  the 
table.  I  feared  you  were  seriously  ill :  your  face  was  not 
indicative  of  health." 

"  Over  there,  papa!"  exclaimed  Margaret,  pointing  to 
the  table  by  which  she  had  been  sitting,  "there,  in  the 
light  of  that  green  lamp  shade!  I  should  think  I  might 
have  looked  like  a  ghost.  But  here,  in  this  light,  I  don't 
look  so  dreadfully,  do  I?"  Adroit  Margaret  was  sitting 
with  her  back  to  her  father's  lamp.  "  I  would  not  look 
like  Mrs.  Herman  for  the  world;  colds  are  uncomfortable 
things  to  have,  but  it  is  too  dreadful  when  they  make 
one  look  like  a  scarecrow;  do  you  think  I  look  so  very 
bad,  papa?" 

"  No,  I  do  not,  my  child,"  said  the  professor  taking  one 
of  Margaret's  hands  in  his,  "but  you  say  you  have  a.cold, 
and  are  not  well.  You  ought  to  take  the  greatest  care  of 
yourself ;  perhaps  you  better  have  a  physician,  my  darling. " 


I42  RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 

''  That  would  be  ridiculous,"  replied  Margaret,  "he 
would  only  laugh  at  me.  One  has  to  have  a  little  patience 
with  these  provoking  colds;  you  can't  do  much  with  them 
but  leave  them  to  take  their  own  course.  I  don't  need 
anything;  I  haven't  much  faith  that  anything  will  do  me 
any  good,  but  to  make  you  feel  more  comfortable,  papa, 
about  me,  I'll  commence  taking  both  malt  and  quinine 
to-morrow." 

"  Do,  darling,  it  will  make  me  feel  more  comfortable, 
and  if  they  do  not  benefit  you,  you  must  take  something 
besides,  or  have  a  physician.  We  can  have  any  one  come 
from  the  city  you  would,  like  to  see.  What  would  you 
think  of  consulting  Miss  Sargent  regarding  a  physician, 
if  you  have  not  confidence  in  Doctor  Kean  ?  She  must 
know  who  is  considered  the  best." 

"I  don't  need  any  physician,  dear  papa;  what  makes 
you  think  I'm  sick?  You  say  I  don't  look  sick." 

"You  do  not  now,  my  darling,  but  you  looked  very 
sick  when  you  were  sitting  on  the  sofa." 

"Yes,  and  if  I  should  sit  there  now,  you  would  see 
that  it  was  all  that  green  shade." 

"Perhaps  something  was  due  to  the  light.  Do  not  ever. 
sit  in  that  light  again  my  child,  and  do  not  be  careless  of 
your  health,  and  neglect  your  cold." 

"I  will  not,  papa, "said  Margaret,  as  she  passed  her 
hands  caressingly  down  each  side  of  his  face,  "and  you 
will  be  careful  and  not  take  cold  yourself,  wont  you? 
Mrs.  Herman  said  Mr.  Herman  was  quite  sick,  just  with 
a  cold,  and  had  been  for  some  time.  It  don't  make  much 
difference  if  we  women  have  colds,  but  you  men  ought 
never  to  get  sick;  we  have  nothing  to  do,  and  can  snug 
down  by  the  fire,  if  we  take  cold  and  do  nothing  all  day, 
but  if  you  got  sick,  what  would  become  of  your  classes? 
And  then  you  would  be  miserable  for  so  long  a  time. 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  I43 

Mrs.  Herman  says,  that  it  is  a  peculiarity  of  colds  this 
winter,  they  hold  on  so  long.  Now  I  don't  expect  to  be 
well  for  weeks  yet:  just  think  of  weeks  of  feeling  miser- 
able and  taking  quinine!" 

Professor  McVey  leaned  his  head  against  the  back  of 
his  chair,  and  looked  into  Margaret's  face,  that  was 
flushed  with  the  excitement  of  her  determination  to 
remove  all  apprehension  regarding  her  from  her  father's 
heart. 

"But  must  you  feel  miserable?"  he  asked,  " cannot 
something  be  done  to  enable  you  to  feel  as  well  as  usual, 
even  if  you  cannot  immediately  throw  off  this  cold?" 

"  I  do  feel  well  enough,"  said  Margaret,  "  I  haven't  the 
least  pain,  or  any  uncomfortable  feeling.  I  ought  to 
have  said  look  miserable,  instead  of  feel  miserable;  one 
don't  like  to  look  like  a  fright,  even  if  they  feel  well. 
But  then  the  being  well  is  of  more  importance  than  the 
looks,  and  you  wont  care,  will  you  papa,  if  I  am  well, 
and  feel  well,  how  I  look?  or  not  so  much  so,  I  mean." 

"  As  a  matter  of  course,  your  health  is  of  the  first  im- 
portance, but  it  would  be  difficult  for  me  to  convince  my- 
self that  you  were  absolutely  well,  if  you  looked  ill." 

"  I'm  not  ill  in  the  least,  but  tonics  may  help  throw  off 
this  cold,  or  rather  brace  up  the  system  to  bear  it  for 
weeks,  as  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to,  from  what  Mrs.  Her- 
man said,  so  I'll  take  quinine,  and  some  of  auntie's  malt 
to-morrow;  but  papa,  if  I  do  look  pale,  you  must  not  be 
concerned,  for  I  may  not  be  able  to  get  entirely  rid  of 
this  cold  before  warm  weather  comes-  in  the  spring. 
Professor  Hitchcock  told  me,  that  he  took  cold  one 
November,  and  never  got  rid  of  it  before  the  next  June." 
Margaret  looked  very  sympathetic  as  she  continued: 
"  And  he  coughed  dreadfully,  and  lost  half  of  his  flesh. 
Don't  you  remember  what  a  miserable  winter  he  had?  it 


I44  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

was  two  %years  ago  this  winter;  I'm  thankful  I  have  no 
cough.  One  can  afford  to  grow  pale  a  little  with  a  cold,  if 
it  don't  settle  on  the  lungs,  and  keep  one  coughing  all  of 
the  time;  I  really  think  I  ought  to  be  thankful  I'm  escap- 
ing so  much  easier  than  most  people.  I  am  only  losing  a 
little  of  my  color  and  flesh,  which  can  be  quickly  gained 
when  spring  comes.  I  wish  the  spring  would  come,  so 
we  could  ride  again;  there  is.  nothing  in  all  this  world 
that  I  like  as  much  as  riding;  and  how  fortunate  it  is  that 
you  like  it  too.  Suppose  you  were  like  some  stupid  old 
papas,  that  don't  like  riding,  what  a  time  I  would  have," 
said  Margaret,  as  she  tied  and  untied  her  father's  cravat 
and  retied  it  in  a  sailor  knot;  then  changed  it  into  long 
bows,  and  then  short  ones. 

"  Papa,  you  will  have  to  give  me  a  salary  as  your  valet," 
she  continued.  "I  do  believe  I  tie  a  prettier  knot  than 
you  can.  I  wish  there  was  a  glass  down  here  so  you  could 
see  this  one,"  and  Margaret  covered  the  bow  which  she 
had  finished  with  her  hand,  and  pressed  it  down  against 
her  father's  neck  to  make  it  keep  its  shape.  Professor 
McVey's  soul  was  filled  with  peace;  he  was  under  the 
hands  of  his  beloved  child,  whom  he  now  believed  was 
well  and  happy;  and  all  that  earth  could  give  him,  was 
her  presence,  and  the  knowledge  of  her  happiness. 

The  next  morning  at  the  breakfast  table,  Margaret  had 
a  bottle  of  malt,  and  a  box  of  quinine  capsules  by  her 
plate,  and  she  was  very  merry,  passing  each  in  turn  to  her 
father  and  aunt,  insisting  that  they  needed  them  as  much 
as  she;  and  with-  a  playful  pout,  accusing  them  of  selfish- 
ness, in  managing  to  have  her  take  the  medicine  for  the 
family.  Professor  McVey  had  suffered  from  dyspepsia 
for  years,  and  when  he  could  not  take  solid  food  without 
distressing  him,  it  was  his  habit  to  rely  principally  upon 
beef  tea  for  nourishment.  There  was  always  a  cup  of  this 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  145 

popular  article  of  diet  for  invalids,  beside  his  plate  on 
the  table,  that  he  could  take  or  not  as  he  chose.  Fre- 
quently when  he  was  not  inclined  to  take  it,  he  would  do 
so  at  the  urgent  suggestion  of  Margaret.  Miss  Bond 
thought  that  sometimes  he  refrained  from  drinking  it,  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  being  coaxed  to  it  by  Margaret's 
affectionate  playfulness.  That  morning  after  she  had 
swallowed  her  dose  of  malt  with  a  very  wry  face,  she 
turned  to  her  father  and  said : 

"Now  papa,  let's  trade;  you  take  my  quinine,  and  I'll 
take  your  beef  tea." 

"  No,  no  my  child,"  said  the  professor,  "  you  need  your 
quinine,  and  I  do  not." 

"  I  do  not  need  it  at  all,"  said  Margaret,  "and  I  think 
you  and  auntie  are  tyrannical  conspirators,  and  I  am 
your  poor  victim,  but  I'm  in  your  power,  so  I  submit,"  and 
she  put  in  her  mouth  a  three  grain  capsule.  Her  father 
finished  his  breakfast,  leaving  the  beef  tea  untouched, 
which  omission  Margaret  quickly  noticed.  She  left  her 
chair,  and  standing  beside  him,  placed  one  arm  around 
his  neck,  and  taking  the  cup  of  beef  tea  in  the  other  hand, 
peeped  into  it  with  mock  gravity,  and  then  shaking  her 
head  solemnly,  she  pressed  her  hand  against  the  back  of 
her  father's,  head,  saying,  "Naughty  papa."  Then  she 
held  the  cup  close  to  his  lips  as  she  continued,  "  If  I  take 
malt  and  quinine,  you  must  take  beef  tea." 

"But  I  do  not  need  it,  my  child." 

"  Yes  you  do,  more  than  I  need  malt.  Doctor  Kean  said 
you  had  nervous  dyspepsia,  and  nobody  ever  said  anything 
was  the  matter  of  me.  I  have  to  swallow  both  malt  and 
quinine  because  I  happened  to  sit  by  a  lamp  that  had  a 
green  shade;  no  papa,  you  can't  get  away,"  she  said,  press- 
ing her  hand  still  harder  on  his  head,  "  you've  got  to  drink 
the  last  drop  of  it,"  and  she  held  the  cup  close  to  his  lips. 

10  Rodger  Latimer's  .Mistake. 


146  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"Suppose  I  will  not  take  it,  what  then?"  playfully 
asked  the  professor,  as  he  looked  into  the  merry  eyes,  so 
close  to  his  own. 

"Why  then  I'll  hold  you  here  all  day,  and  your  boys 
will  have  a  good  time,"  replied  Margaret,  as  she  gave  him 
a  little  hug  and  a  kiss;  whereupon  her  father  drank  the 
beef  tea,  sipping  it  slowly,  frequently  stopping  to  protest, 
declaring  that  he  was  badly  used;  Margaret  as  frequently 
with  the  little  hugs,  insisting  that  he  take  the  last  drop. 

The  lamps  in  the  study  were  changed  that  day,  so  that 
the  one  with  a  pink  shade  sat  on  the  table  by  which  Mar- 
garet usually  read,  and  it  cast  over  her  face  and  neck 
a  warm  flush,  as  she  occuped  her  usual  corner  of  the  sofa, 
and  in  this  flush  she  looked  bright  and  rosy.  But  the 
brightness  was  fast  dying  out  of  her  life.  The  solitary 
figure  of  Rodger  Latimer  had  haunted  her  night  and  day 
since  the  first  doubt  regarding  him  had  entered  her  mind, 
but  after  that  morning  visit  of  Mrs.  Herman's,  the  spec- 
tral figure  was  no  longer  solitary;  it  was  always  accom- 
panied by  a  large  girl  dressed  in  white,  with  lovely  eyes, 
and  beautiful  hair.  The  two  heads,  in  close  proximity 
bent  over  her  as  she  lay  on  her  lounge,  the  two  figures 
stood  side  by  side  in  the  darkness,  and  gazed  at  her  with 
fixed,  expressionless  faces,  through  the  sleepless  hours  of 
her  nights;  in  the  wood,  very  close  together,  her  lover 
and  that  unknown  woman,  glided  noiselessly  over  the 
dead  leaves  by  her  side,  as  she  took  her  daily  exercise. 
Had  Margaret  been  under  the  care  of  a  physician  at  this 
time,  he  would  have  peremptorily  insisted  on  a  change 
of  scene,  and  society,  as  the  only  hope  of  saving  her 
from  serious  results,  that  might  follow  the  mental  strain 
she  was  evidently  bearing,  whatever  the  cause  of  the 
strain  might  be. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Christmas  came  and  went,  followed  by  Ne,w  Year's,  and 
while  the  holidays  were  not  what  could  be  called  merry, 
in  the  McVey  home,  they  passed  in  quietness  and  peace. 
Professor  McVey  was  in  the  house  more  than  usual,  and 
Margaret  never  flagged  in  her  affectionate  attention  and 
cheerful  conversation.  After  the  holidays,  when  Pro- 
fessor McVey  went  into  his  classes  again  he  did  not  seem 
quite  as  strong  as  usual ;  but  he  had  always  been  so  thin 
and  pale,  neither  Margaret  nor  her  aunt  noticed  any 
change  in  his  appearance.  His  hands  and  face  and  ears, 
could  hardly  look  whiter  than  they  had  for  years,  but  he 
certainly  had  less  appetite,  and  he  wearied  easily.  Early 
in  February  he  commenced  to  lie  on  the  lounge  in  his 
study,  part  of  the  evening,  instead  of  sitting  in  his  chair 
and  reading  all  of  the  time.  He  slept  well,  felt  no  pain, 
and  declared  there  was  nothing  the  matter  of  him,  but  his 
being  willing  to  lie  down  half  an  hour  after  dinner,  and 
not  eating  as  much  as  usual,  was  sufficient  to  alarm  Mar- 
garet. She  saw  that  any  reference  to  his  lack  of  strength 
annoyed  him,  so  she  never  referred  to  his  condition  in  his 
presence,  but  she  made  his  beef  tea  herself,  to  know  that 
it  was  strong,  and  perfectly  prepared,  and  she  added  to 
the  quantity  usually  put  in  his  cup,  and  in  her  playful 
way  insisted  that  he  should  take  it  with  every  meal. 
After  a  consultation  with  her  aunt,  she  dropped  a  line  to 
Dr.  Kean,  their  family  physician  who  resided  in  Clinton, 
who  was  a  dear  personal  friend,  as  well  as  medical  ad- 
viser, and  asked  him  to  come  and  see  her  father,  and  tell 
them  whether  or  not  anything  really  ailed  him.  In 
response  to  this  request,  about  the  middle  of  February 

147 


148  RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 

Doctor  Kean  went  out  to  Edgewood,  on  one  of  the  late 
afternoon  trains,  ostensibly  to  dine  with  his  old  friend, 
whom  he  had  not  seen  for  months.  After  dinner  Margaret 
left  them  alone  together  in  the  study,  for  an  hour  or  two. 
When  she  returned  her  father  was  sitting  on  the  sofa  in 
his  shirt  sleeves,  his  coat  and  waistcoat  were  lying  by  his 
side.  To  her  questioning  look  of  smiling  surprise,  he 
said: 

"Doctor  Kean  has  been  giving  me  what  he  calls  a 
physical  examination,  my  child.  He  fancied  I  was  not 
looking  quite  as  well  as  usual,  and  persuaded  me  to  be 
looked  over,  as  he  calls  it." 

"And  I  had  my  trouble  for  my  pains,"  said  Doctor 
Kean;  "I  thought  at  dinner,  your  father  did  not  look  in 
his  usual  vigor,  but  I  find  nothing  the  matter  with  him. 
Every  organ  is  in  a  healthy  condition,  and  doing  its  work 
well,  not  with  much  energy  to  be  sure,  but  then  he  is  per- 
fectly sound." 

"  I  assured  Margaret  that  there  was  no  cause  for  any 
anxiety  regarding  my  health,"  said  the  professor,  "that  I 
was  perfectly  well,  but  I  do  not  think  she  was  quite 
satisfied,  and  I  am  very  glad  that  your  judgment  justifies 
the  opinion  that  I  held." 

"  Papa  thought  he  did  not  need  to  take  any  beef  tea, 
doctor,"  said  Margaret,  "but  his  appetite  was  not  good, 
and  it  seemed  to  me,  that  he  needed  more  nourishment 
than  he  possibly  could  get  from  the  small  quantity  of  food 
that  he  took." 

"And  you  were  quite  right,  little  woman,"  replied  the 
doctor.  "  There  is  no  doubt  but  that  you  need  the  beef 
tea,  McVey;  you  and  I  must  not  forget  that  we  are  grow- 
ing old,  and  can't  do  as  we  once  did.  What  we  need  is 
nourishment  and  tonics,  and  less  work.  Margaret  is 
right,  beefsteak  would  be  better,  but  if  you  cannot  take 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  149 

that  with  a  positive  relish,  take  the  tea,  and  plenty  of  it, 
and  it  would  not  be  amiss  if  you  add  some  sorfof  emul- 
sion; a  pancreatic  emulsion  would  be  good,  and  then, 
Margaret,  give  from  six  to  ten  grains  of  quinine  a  day. 
Try  it  for  a  few  weeks,  professor,  and  see  the  effect ;  say 
through  this  month,  and  next.  This  is  the  most  trying 
season  for  invalids,  and  for  such  old  fellows  as  you  and  I; 
and  this  climate  is  especially  trying  through  March  and 
April.  It  would  be  a  good  plan  for  you,  and  little  Mar- 
garet here,  to  run  down  to  Florida  for  six  weeks  this 
spring.  I  find  that  men  over  fifty  need  a  great  deal  of  rest 
and  recreation.  Couldn't  you  bring  that  around,  Mar- 
garet?" 

"  Certainly  we  could,"  Margaret  replied;  "there's  noth- 
ing to  prevent  our  going.  Papa  has  frequently  taken  part 
of  the  classes  of  the  other  professors,  when  it  was  nec- 
essary for  them  to  be  absent  during  term  time,  and  I  am 
sure  that  his  classes  could  be  provided  for,  as  long  as  you 
thought  best  for  him  to  be  away  from  Edgewood. " 

"I  beg  of  you,  my  dear  sir,"  cried  Professor  McVey, 
"  not  to  put  any  such  notion  into  Margaret's  head.  I 
presume  that  I  could  arrange  to  leave  my  classes,  as 
Margaret  suggests,  but  it  is  not  at  all  necessary,  and  I 
could  not  think  of  leaving  unless  it  was  a  matter  of  abso- 
lute necessity." 

"I  understand  all  of  that,  my  old  friend,"  said  the 
doctor,  "and  I  don't  advise  you  to  leave  now,  but  you 
may  be  sure  that  I  don't  wait  until  an  absolute  necessity 
stares  me  in  the  face,  before  I  send  a  patient  off  in  search 
of  health.  You  know  you  always  used  to  say  I  was  an 
obstinate  fellow,  and  I  think  it  grows  on  me.  If  it  is 
best,  as  a  preventive,  that  you  and  Margaret  go  to 
Florida  for  four  or  five  weeks,  I  hope  you  will  be  con- 
trolled by  my  judgment,  and  that  Margaret  will  pack  the 


150  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

trunks  without  a  word  of  remonstrance,  and  both  of  you 
be  off."-  Doctor  Kean,  as  he  ceased  speaking,  laid  his 
hand  on  Professor  McVey's  knee,  and  gave  it  a  pinch  of 
good  comradeship. 

"We  shall  both  of  us  do  as  you  say,  dear  doctor,  there 
is  no  doubt  about  that,"  said  the  professor,  "only  do  not 
send  us  off  on  a  pleasure  trip." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  you  ought  to  go  just  for 
pleasure,  both  of  you,  if  there  were  not  the  least  necessity; 
you  have  money  enough,  McVey,  and  why,  at  your  time  of 
life,  shouldn't  you  do  just  as  you  please?" 

"  I  am  doing  it  in  teaching  Latin  and  Greek,  and  stay- 
ing at  home  with  Margaret,"  replied  the  professor. 

"  How  hard  it  is  for  a  man  who  has  been  busy  all  of  his 
life,  to  learn  to  take  things  easy,"  said  Doctor  Kean,  as 
he  rose  to  his  feet.  "  But  I  must  be  going  to  the  depot, 
or  I'll  lose  my  train.  Now  Margaret,  see  that  your 
father  has  plenty  of  nourishment,  and  tonics  for  the  next 
few  weeks;  all  sorts  of  good  things  to  eat,  remember,  and 
plenty  of  sleep.  If  you  are  in  the  city  during  the  next 
few  weeks,  professor,  step  in  and  let  me  see  how  you  are 
doing.  If  you  don't  feel  like  coming  down,  I'll  run  out 
and  smoke  another  cigar  with  you  soon.  Good-night,  no, 
you  sit  still,  Margaret '11  let  me  out,"  continued  the  doctor 
as  he  placed  his  hand  on  Professor  McVey's  shoulder  to 
prevent  him  from  rising. 

In  the  hall,  as  Margaret  was  holding  the  doctor's  over- 
coat for  him  she  said:  "Now  doctor,  tell  me  the  exact 
truth;  you  know  me  well  enough  to  know  that  it  will  do." 

"To  be  sure  I  do,"  replied  the  doctor,  "and  I  would 
tell  you  the  truth,  no  matter  how  serious  it  might  be, 
but  nothing  ails  your  father,  there's  not  a  particle  of 
disease  about  him;  his  circulation  is  not  very  strong,  but 
he  always  was  delicate.  I  presume  there  may  be  a  little 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  151 

lack  of  assimilation,  but  at  his  age,  with  his  indoor  life, 
that  is  not  strange.  He  needs  nothing  but  nourishment, 
and  toning  up  a  little.  Beef  and  quinine  are  the  best 
things  he  can  have.  I  really  think  that  it  will  be  well  for 
him  to  go  South  in  order  to  get  away  from  these  spring 
winds,  so  I  thought  I  would  open  the  way  to-night,  and 
let  him  be  thinking  of  it;  not  that  he  really  needs  it,  but 
it  will  be  a  safe  precaution.  Good-night,  Margaret.  I 
am  very  glad  that  you  sent  for  me;  if  you  get  at  all  anx- 
ious, and  wish  me  to  come  at  any  time,  telegraph,  and 
I'll  come  immediately^  But  don't  allow  yourself  to  be 
anxious,  child,"  added  the  kind  doctor,  "  for  nothing  really 
ails  your  father." 

The  next  day — which  was  Thursday — Margaret  received 
a  note  from  Miss  Sargent  informing  her  that  she  had  seen 
Doctor  Kean  the  evening  before,  after  his  return  from 
Edgewood,  and  had  learned  from  him  that  Professor 
McVey  was  not  quite  well ;  after  expressing  her  sympathy, 
she  closed  her  note  by  saying,  that  if  perfectly  agreeable 
to  Margaret  and  her  father,  she  would  spend  Saturday 
with  them  at  Edgewood.  Margaret  replied  immediately, 
urging  her  to  come  on  Saturday  and  spend  the  Sabbath, 
and  to  bring  her  brother  with  her  for  the  visit.  She  sent 
George  to  the  postoffice  with  her  letter  as  soon  as  it  was 
written,  so  that  it  might  reach  Miss  Sargent  early  on 
Friday.  When  the  man  returned  he  brought  Margaret  a 
number  of  letters.  The  address  on  one  of  them  was  in 
Rodger  Latimer's  well  known  hand.  It  had  been  weeks 
since  she  had  heard  from  him.  The  letter  contained  three 
well  filled  pages;  only  three  pages  in  which  to  tell  her 
that  he  loved  another  woman  ;  that  this  woman  loved  him, 
and  that  they  were  to  be  married.  The  sentences  that 
seemed  to  him  just,  kind,  and  full  of  common  sense  when 
he  wrote  them ;  seemed  to  Margaret,  cold,  cruel  and  dis- 


152  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

honorable,  as  she  read  them — daggers,  with  jagged  edges, 
driven  by  a  giant's  strength  into  the  heart  of  a  dying 
woman.  She  had  thought  that  she  was  prepared  for  any- 
thing; she  had  said  to  herself  a  hundred  times,  that 
Rodger  loved  her  no  longer,  and  that  he  did  love  the 
large  girl  in  white,  with  lovely  eyes  and  beautiful  hair; 
and  a  hundred  times,  as  she  had  looked  at  them  as  they 
stood  side  by  side,  gazing  at  her  out  of  the  darkness  of 
the  night,  she  said  to  herself — "Yes,  that  is  his  wife;  if 
they  only  would  go  away  and  leave  me  alone!"  She 
thought  that  she  had  accepted  the  truth  of  his  love  for 
this  beautiful  girl  and  his  allegiance  to  her;  and  she  had 
never  Jreamed  that  his  plain  statement  of  such  a  fact 
would  be  so  different  from  the  imagined  fact.  Margaret 
read  the  letter  over  several  times  in  a  calm,  mechanical 
way,  then  leaned  her  head  back  against  her  chair,  and 
closed  her  eyes;  the  lids  were  heavy,  and  the  eyeballs  hot. 
After  a  little  she  raised  her  head  and  looked  around  the 
room,  and  remembered  that  there  was  something  she  had 
to  do.  Not  to  answer  Rodger's  letter!  that,  she  never 
could  do.  She  had  not  one  word  to  say  to  him,  but  she 
must  return  the  letters  that  a  man  had  written  her  who 
soon  would  be  the  husband  of  another  woman.  She  looked 
at  her  hand,  at  the  ring  on  her  finger;  looked  at  it  in 
silence  for  several  minutes,  then  drew  it  slowly  off,  as  she 
might  have  closed  the  eyes  of  a  dear  one  just  dead.  She 
did  not  shed  a  fear,  and  in  half  an  hour  or  so,  she  slowly 
and  noiselessly  went  through  the  silent  house  to  the  attic, 
and  from  a  heap  of  pasteboard  boxes,  that  her  thrifty  aunt 
had  gathered  there  from  time  to  time,  she  selected  a  large 
strong  one,  and  carried  it  down  to  her  sitting-room.  In 
this  she  placed  all  of  Rodger's  letters,  taking  them  from 
the  drawer  where  she  kept  them,  in  packages  of  each  six 
months'  letters  tied  up  by  themselves  with  a  pretty  ribbon. 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE  153 

She  slipped  the  ribbon  off  and  packed  the  letters  closely 
together.      How  many  there  were!     Among  them  were  all 
the  telegrams  that  she  had  ever  received  from  him;  these 
she  placed  with  the  letters.     Above  them  she  laid  half  a 
dozen  engravings  that  Rodger  had  sent  her,  and  two  tiny 
water-colors  in  their  frames;  and   last  of  all,  she  put  in 
four  photographs  of  Rodger,  which  she  folded  in  white 
tissue   paper  without  looking  at  them.      She  placed  the 
cover  on,    wrapped   the   box  in  strong  brown  paper,  and 
fastened    it    securely.      Then    she   took    from    the   book 
shelves  and  the  table,  and  the  small  stand  at  the  head  of 
her  Florentine  lounge,  a  dozen  or  more  of  books,  Rodger's 
gifts,  and  made  them  into  a  safe  package.     After  writing 
Rodger's  address  upon  these  two  packages,  she  went  out 
and  ordered  her  carriage,  and  told  the  man  that  she  wished 
him  to  drive  her  down  street.    Then  she  went  to  her  room 
and  put  on  her  cloak  and  hat,  winding  a  long  veil  around 
her   head.       Before    going  down  stairs,    she    took    from 
one  of  her  bureau  drawers  a  ring  box,  which  she  carried 
down   with  her,   and   in   which   she  placed  her  diamond 
engagement  ring,  wrapping  the  box  in  several   layers  of 
paper  to  make  a   large  package.       The  man,  under  her 
directions,  placed  the  packages  in  the  carriage,  and  drove 
to  the  express  office,  where  she  ordered  them  sent  to  Mr. 
Latimer.      The  package  that  contained  the  ring,  she  had 
the  express  agent    seal,    and  she   took   a   receipt    for  it 
which  she  placed  in  an  envelope  and  had  the  agent  him- 
self direct  to  Rodger  Latimer.     This  done,  she  returned 
home.     As  she  dropped  the  portiere  behind   her  as  she 
entered  her  Sans-Souci,    she  stood   and    looked  around. 
How  still  it  was!  what  a  sense  of  vacancy  surrounded  her! 
There  were  the  empty  open  drawers  of  her  writing  table, 
the  empty  coils  of  ribbon  on  the  floor;  the  vacant  places, 
at   intervals,   on    the    bookshelves,   and    the   absence  of 


:54  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

books  on  the  tables.  It  was  a  dark  February  day,  the 
sky  was  heavily  clouded,  but  there  was  no  wind;  stillness 
reigned  without  and  within  the  house;  the  only  sound 
that  struck  her  ear  was  the  ticking  of  the  clock  on  the 
mantel.  It  was  twilight,  but  not  ttie  dreamy  twilight 
following  a  bright  sunset;  it  was  a  stealthily  approaching 
of  heavy  gloom.  She  seemed  alone  in  the  universe,  as 
she  slowly  crossed  the  room  and  seated  herself  in  her  little 
wicker  chair  beside  the  center  table.  She  felt  an  inward 
tremor,  and  her  breath  came  heavily;  she  pressed  one 
hand  upon  her  breast  as  her  eyes  rested  upon  the  open 
drawer  where  Rodger's  letters  used  to  Ire.  She  remem- 
bered the  coming  home  after  her  mother's  funeral,  and 
how  strange  the  house  seemed  as  she  sat  in  her  father's 
lap  in  his  study,  where  several  kind  friends  were  sitting 
with  her  father  and  aunt.  That  was  nothing  to  the  horror 
of  this  hour;  alone  in  this  silence.  She  leaned  the  side 
of  her  head  upon  some  books,  with  her  wide  open,  tearless 
eyes  faxed  upon  the  empty  drawers  of  her  writing  table. 
The  darkness  of  the  winter  day  slowly  descended,  shut- 
ting from  her  sight  every  objectvin  the  room.  She  knew 
nothing  of  the  passing  of  time,  but  her  father's  voice  from 
the  stairs,  as  he  was  on  the  way  to  his  room,  aroused 
her.  She  could  not  see  him,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life 
her  power  of  will  failed  her.  As  she  rose  to  her  feet,  a 
sharp  pain  shot  through  her  head  and  she  was  obliged  to 
lay  hold  of  the  back  of  the  chair  for  a  moment,  to  steady 
herself  on  her  feet.  After  a  little  she  very  slowly  walked 
into  the  dining-room,  where  she  knew  her  aunt  would  be 
at  that  hour,  superintending  fhe  laying  of  dinner.  Miss 
Bond  sprang  forward  as  she  caught  sight  of  Margaret's 
face,  but  before  she  could  speak,  Margaret,  holding  onto 
the  door  knob,  said : 

"Auntie,  will  you  tell  papa  that  I  have  a  headache  and 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


'55 


have  gone  to  bed?  Just  a  headache,  and  that  I  will  be 
well  by  morning.  I  want  to  sleep,  that's  all."  Miss 
Bond  was  quickly  by  her  side  and  caught  hold  of  her  left 
hand,  that  was  hanging  by  her  side.  She  felt  the  ring 
was  gone,  and  knew  all. 

"Can  I  do  anything  for  you,  Margaret?  Are  you  very 
sick  ?"  she  asked. 

"No,  "said  Margaret  as  she  leaned  against  the  door, 
"I'm  very  wretched,  auntie,  all  you  can  do  for  me  is  to 
take  care  of  papa  and  make  him  comfortable  and  happy. 
Tell  him  the  pain  is  not  much  in  my  head,  but  I  wish  to 
sleep. "  Then  she  went  to  her  bedroom,  closed  the  door, 
and  threw  herself  on  the  bed.  About  ten  o'clock  her 
aunt  came  into  the  dark  room. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Margaret,  in  a  low  voice. 

"It's  only  me,  Margaret,"  replied  her  aunt,  as  she 
lighted  the  gas. 

"What  time  is  it?  has  papa  gone  to  bed?"  asked  Mar* 
garet. 

"  It's  ten  o'clock;  your  father  went  to  his  room  about 
fifteen  minutes  ago,"  said  Miss  Bond.  "  I've  brought  you 
a  cup  of  tea  and  a  bit  of  toast,"  she  continued,  as  she 
went  to  the  bedside  with  a  small  tray  in  her  hand.  Mar- 
garet thanked  her  gently,  but  said  she  could  take  nothing, 
yet  to  please  her  aunt,  who  begged  of  her  to  try  and  eat  a 
mouthful ;  she  sat  up  and  took  a  bit  of  toast  in  her  mouth. 
She  chewed  it  and  shifted  it  from  side  to  side,  but  could 
not  swallow.  As  she  placed  the  morsel  back  on  the  tray, 
she  said: 

"I  cannot,  auntie,  all  I  want  is  to  be  alone.  I  will  be 
better  in  the  morning." 

Miss  Bond  was  sorely  grieved  that  she  could  do  noth- 
ing, but  she  had  sense  enough  to  desist  in  her  efforts,  and 
in  perfect  silence  to  assist  Margaret  to  undress  and  get  into 


156  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

bed.     At   Margaret's   request   she  turned   the  gas  all  off 
and  left  the  room. 

How  often  in  this  sorrowful  world  has  impotent  love 
cried  in  anguish:  "What  can  I  do  for  you?"  and  been 
answered  in  hardly  a  greater  anguish:  "Nothing,  leave 
me  alone!" 

The  next  morning  Margaret  did  not  appear  at  the 
breakfast  table,  but  her  father  quietly  accepted  Miss 
Bond's  statement,  that  she  thought  it  best  not  to  awaken 
her,  but  to  let  her  sleep  her  headache  off.  Professor 
McVey  ate  very  little,  and  did  not  talk  at  all.  Miss 
Bond  was  anxious  that  he  should  take  his  beef  tea,  which 
he  set  aside,  but  she  dared  only  to  make  a  suggestion  to 
that  effect,  which  he  did  not  seem  to  notice.  He  wou«id 
look  from  time  to  time  at  Margaret's  vacant  chair,  as 
though  he  were  trying  to  correct  some  inaccuracy  of 
vision.  Not  to  see  Margaret  at  the  table,  was  as  un- 
natural as  it  would  have  been  not  to  see  the  college,  or 
his  own  house,  as  he  approached  the  place  where  he 
had  always  seen  them.  He  did  not  stop  for  his  morning 
cigar,  or  newspaper,  but  went  directly  from  the  breakfast 
table  to  the  hat-rack  in  the  hall,  where  he  courteously  de- 
clined Miss  Bond's  proffered  assistance  in  putting  on  his" 
overcoat. 

"You  are  sure,  Deborah,"  he  said,  as  he  held  the  front 
door  open,  "that  Margaret  is  not  sick?  that  nothing  more 
serious  than  a  headache  is  the  matter  with  her?" 

"Yes,  I'm  very  sure,"  Miss  Bond  replied;  "  she  will  be 
as  well  as  usual  when  you  come  home  at  noon." 

Professor  McVey  passed  out  quickly,  but  the  cold  air 
striking  his  ankles,  disclosed  to  him  the  fact  that  he  was 
on  his  way  to  the  college  in  his  slippers.  He  returned 
for  his  shoes  and  gaiters,  but  left  the  house  as  soon  as 
possible,  after  he  had  put  them  on,  which  was  a  new  and 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


157 


difficult  task  for  him,  and  was  only  accomplished  after  he 
had  buttoned  the  gaiters  wrong  three  times.  When  Miss 
Bond  went  to  Margaret's  room,  immediately  after  the 
professor  left,  she  found  her  lying  in  bed,  wide  awake, 
with  sunken  eyes  and  white  face.  Her  first  words  were; 
"Did  papa  take  his  beef  tea  and  quinine,  auntie?" 

"  No,  I  think  not ;  I  tried  to  persuade  him  to  take  them, 
but  I  don't  believe  he  did,  but  he  looks  well  this  morn- 
ing, Margaret,  so  don't  worry  about  him.  How  do  you 
feel ?" 

"  Did  you  give  papa  his  shoes  and  gaiters?"  persisted 
Margaret. 

"N-o,"  hesitatingly  answered  her  aunt,  for  the  first 
time  thinking  of  the  professor's  shoes,  and  wondering  if 
he  would  return  for  them,  or  wear  his  slippers  all  of  the 
morning,  and  take  his  death  of  cold.  As  she  was  cog- 
itating over  the  matter,  she  heard  the  front  door  open, 
and  went  into  the  hall  and  looking  over  the  banisters, 
saw  the  professor  come  out  of  the  study  with  his  shoes  on. 
She  returned  to  Margaret's  room  and  told  her  that  her 
father  was  all  right,  that  he  had  on  both  shoes  and  gaiters. 

"  I  ought  to  have  gotten  up;  it's  selfish  for  me  to  lie  in 
bed,  and  let  dear  papa  go  off  in  this  way,"  said  Margaret 
faintly  as  she  gazed  at:  the  ceiling. 

"  Indeed  I  don't  think  it  is,  Margaret.  Your  father  did 
well  enough,  he's  looking  better  than  usual  this  morning; 
I  think  you  are  the  one  to  be  taken  care  of;  what  can  I 
get  you  ?  You  must  eat  something,  you  better  have  a  cup 
of  coffee,  and  then  turn  over  and  go  to  sleep." 

"I  would  like  a  cup  of  coffee,"  said  Margaret,  "very 
strong.  I  want  to  be  up  and  looking  well  when  papa 
comes  to  luncheon.  But  before  I  drink  the  coffee,  I 
would  like  a  little  something  to  eat.  Where  is  my  quinine? 
I'll  take  some  of  that.  But  auntie!  the  very  first  thing — 


158  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

can't  you  write  a  note  to  Aunt  Helen;  she's  coming  here 
to-morrow  to  spend  the  day,  you  know. " 

"I  didn't  know  you  expected  her,"  said  Miss  Bond. 

"She,  and  perhaps  the  judge.  Write  a  note  imme- 
diately please,  and  have  George  take  it  to  the  office  for 
the  noon  mail;  then  she  may  get  it  to-night;  she  certainly 
will  early  in  the  morning,  they  have  a  delivery  about  their 
breakfast  time.  Say  that  I'm  not  well;  not  sick,  you 
know,  but  have  a  cold  and  headache;  and  if  convenient 
for  them,  we  would  like  to  see  them  next  week  Saturday, 
instead  of  to-morrow.  Auntie,  I  cannot  see  anybody!  By 
next  Saturday  I  shall  be  strong  again;  give  her  my  love, 
and  write  cordially,  and  say  how  disappointed  I  am,  and 
say  it  will  be  a  severe  disappointment  to  us  all,  if  they 
don't  visit  us  next  week.  Dear  Aunt  Helen!  how  kind 
she  was  to  me  in  Europe,"  said  Margaret  laying  one  arm 
across  her  eyes,  as  her  aunt  left  the  room  to  write  the 
note.  The  first  numbing  shock  and  intense  agony  that 
followed  it,  were  past,  and  Margaret  lay  in  helpless  ex- 
haustion. The  tears  flowed  from  her  eyes  behind  her 
arm,  down  the  temples,  upon  the  pillow.  She  wept  in 
childish  weakness  at  the  thought  of  the  dear  European 
days,  of  which  Miss  Sargent  was  an  inalienable  part. 

Professor  McVey  hurried  home  at  noon  to  find  the  door 
opened  for  him  as  soon  as  his  foot  touched  the  piazza., 
and  little  hands  ready  to  take  off  his  overcoat  and  lead  him 
to  his  chair  in  front  of  a  crackling  fire  in  his  study.  And 
when  Margaret  was  in  his  lap,  her  arm  around  his  neck, 
and  her  soft  cheek  against  his  pale,  cold  face,  the  old 
sense  of  happy  contentment  settled  upon  him. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Saturday  morning,  as  Miss  Sargent  seated  herself  at 
her  breakfast  table  in  Clinton  she  found,  with  other  mail 
matter  by  her  plate,  Miss  Bond's  letter  of  the  day  before. 
After  reading  it,  she  laid  it  aside  from  her  other  letters. 

When  she  and  her  brother  had  finished  their  breakfast, 
they  turned  their  chairs  around  from  the  table  so  as  to 
face  the  blazing  wood  fire  that  always  burned  in  the 
dining  room.  Judge  Sargent  used  to  say,  that  his  only 
extravagance  was  a  wood  fire,  and  that  he  must  have  good 
wood  and  plenty  of  it,  if  he  had  to  sell  his  horses  to  get 
it.  While  the  butler  was  clearing  the  table,  Judge  Sar- 
gent read  the  morning  paper,  and  Miss  Sargent  re-read 
Miss  Bond's  letter.  As  she  sat  there  in  the  glow  of  the 
fire,  she  was  a  woman  that  any  thoughtful  person  would 
turn  to  look  at  the  second  time.  She  was  between  forty- 
five  and  fifty  years  of  age,  and  her  stout  matronly  figure 
was  clothed  in  a  black  and  white  foulard  silk  breakfast 
gown.  Her  head  was  large,  and  especially  broad  across 
the  top  from  ear  to  ear,  and  was  covered  with  an  abun- 
dance of  hair  white  as  snow.  This  hair  was  twisted  in 
one  long,  loose  coil,  that  was  thrown,  in  some  deft  way, 
up  and  down  the  back  of  the  head,  and  across  the  top — a 
pile  of  silvery  whiteness.  Her  brow  was  low  and  broad, 
and  the  front  hair  lay  across  the  sides  of  her  head  in  a 
plain,  wavy  surface.  The  skin  of  her  face  was  nearly  as 
white  as  her  hair;  not  at  all  sallow,  nor  had  it  the  least 
tinge  of  color,  but  was  of  a  delicate  fresh  white.  There 
were  lines  at  the  corners  of  the  eyes  that  indicated  years, 
but  the  lines  of  the  mouth  indicated  sorrow.  They  were 
not  simply  deep  marks,  cut  by  the  years  into  the  tissues, 

159 


160  FODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

natural  and  expressionless,  but  they  were  lines  full  of 
history,  and  of  hope — to  one  who  had  eyes  to  read — a 
record  of  struggles,  and  of  victories;  of  strong  passions, 
met  by  a  strong  conscience  and  a  strong  will.  An  artist, 
who  had  painted  her  portrait  once,  said:  "I  always  ex- 
perienced pain,  whenever  I  attempted  to  paint  Miss  Sar- 
gent's mouth.  It  was  a  delight  to  transfer  to  canvas, 
the  majestic  head,  with  its  beautiful  white  hair,  and  her 
grand  pathetic  eyes,  but  whenever  I  attempted  to  paint 
her  mouth,  I  broke  down,  the  suffering  so  touched  my 
heart."  There  was  about  her  a  peculiar  air  of  depend- 
ability. One  felt  that  she  was  strong,  and  wise,  and  good 
and  could  be  trusted;  and  that  she  was  ready  to  give  the 
best  of  herself,  whenever  it  could  be  of  use  to  any  one. 

As  the  butler  closed  his  pantry  door  after  him,  when 
his  work  in  the  dining-room  was  finished,  Miss  Sargent 
said  to  her  brother: 

"Would  you  like  to  go  'to  Edgewood  next  week,  and 
spend  Saturday  with  Professor  McVey?" 

''  I  don't  care  particularly  about  it,"  replied  the 
judge.  He  was  ten  years  his  sister's  senior,  and  for 
many  years  had  not  cared  particularly  about  anything, 
outside  of  his  own  home,  and  not  much  for  anything 
inside,  excepting  his  wood  fire,  newspapers  and  books. 

"  Margaret  sends  us  an  invitation  for  next  Saturday." 
said  Miss  Sargent,  "  and  desires  that  we  pass  the  Sabbath 
with  them.  I  should  think  you  might  find  it  pleasant  to 
go,  for  a  day  at  least." 

"  No  I  don't  know  as  I  care  to;  I  don't  like  going  away 
from  home,  but  I  thought  you  said  the  other  day  that  you 
were  going  this  week  Saturday?" 

"  I  had  intended  going  to-day,  but  Miss  Bond  writes 
me  that  Margaret  is  not  well,  and  so  invites  us  for  next 
week." 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE  161 

"Margaret  not  well?  I  thought  it  was  Professor 
McVey  who  was  sick,"  said  the  judge,  "didn't  Doctor 
Kean  say  that  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  his  sister.  "Professor  McVey  has  been 
out  of  health  for  weeks,  but  Margaret  is  sick  abed,  with 
a  headache,  brought  on,  Miss  Bond  writes,  by  some 
trouble  that  she  has  had  with  Rodger  Latimer.  She 
thinks  their  engagement  broken." 

"You  don't  say  so!"  exclaimed  the  judge,  turning 
toward  his  sister  with  an  animation  he  rarely  exhibited. 
"Why  I  thought  they  were  to  be  married  soon;  what's 
the  matter,  who  is  to  blame?" 

"Mr.  Latimer  entirely,"  replied  Miss  Sargent. 

"I  have  always  thought  well  of  Mr.  Latimer,"  said 
the  judge,  "I  cannot  conceive  of  his  doing  anything  dis- 
honorable; what  do  you  know  of  the  affair?" 

"  Not  very  much.  I  have  seen  nothing  of  Margaret  since 
last  October.  I  hardly  know  how  it  is  that  I  have  been  to 
Edgewood  so  little  this  last  year;  and  neither  Margaret 
or  her  father,  have  been  here  as  much  as  usual.  I  hope 
I've  not  been  remiss  and  neglected  Margaret." 

"  Does  Miss  Bond  say  to  you  that  the  engagement  is 
broken  ?" 

"  She  says  that  she  fears  that  it  is,"  replied  Miss  Sar- 
gent, "and  that  Margaret  has  not  been  well  for  months, 
that  she  regards  her  as  being  in  a  worse  condition  than 
her  father.  I  ought  to  have  gone  out  there  before  this. 
You  don't  know  Margaret  as  well  as  I  do;  she's  a  most 
lovely  girl;  as  faultless  as  any  human  being  can  be." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  go  to-day,  if  you  feel  anxious 
about  her?"  asked  the  judge. 

"I  can't  very  well,"  replied  his  sister,  with  a  smile, 
"when  they  write  me  not  to.  How  could  Rodger  Latimer 
do  such  a  thing!" 

ii  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake. 


162  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"Are  you  sure  they  were  engaged?"  asked  the  judge, 
evincing  the  legal  habit  of  his  mind,  by  wishing  first  of 
all  things  to  be  sure  of  tne  fact. 

" There  can  be  no  question  about  that,"  replied  Miss 
Sargent. 

"You  liked  Latimer,  didn't  you?"  the  judge  asked. 

"  Yes,  he  seemed  to  possess  an  unusual  depth  of  affec- 
tion, and  a  peculiar  delicacy  of  nature,  and  he  certainly 
is  a  man  of  mind.  " 

"I  always  regarded  him  as  an  able  man,"  rejoined  the 
judge.  "  Mr.  Prentice. was  saying  to  me  the  other  day, 
that  he  almost  regretted  Latimer's  inheritance  of  his 
uncle's  property,  because  it  removed  the  necessity  of  his 
practicing  law,  and  that  he  had  mind  enough  to  become 
in  time  a  leading  lawyer." 

"  How  he  has  plunged  into  society!"  said  Miss  Sargent. 
"What  of  his  office,  did  he  give  it  up?" 

"He  gave  up  all  personal  work  in  it;  there  was  a  sort 
of  partnership  formed  between  him  and  two  men — the 
Mead  Brothers,  they  are  sometimes  called — two  brothers, 
they  are  older  than  Latimer,  and  both  are  capable  men; 
but  they  have  little  property,  and  are  having  a  hard 
time  to  get  their  share  of  business.  It  was  a  good  thing 
for  them.  Latimer' 11  have  no  money  out  of  it,  but 
he  don't  need  any,  and  it  will  be  a  place  for  him  to 
begin  again,  if  he  ever  should  wish  to  resume  practice. 
I  think  he  is  acting  very  foolishly,  but  after  a  little  ex- 
perience he  may  set  himself  to  work  again." 

"He's  an  impetuous  nature,"  said  Miss  Sargent,  "and 
for  a  man  who  has  been  as  much  in  the  world,  possesses 
a  remarkable  simplicity  of  character.  But  I  know  that 
he  is  all  in  fault,  if  there  is  any  trouble  between  him  and 
Margaret."  The  conversation  dropped  at  this  point,  and 
Miss  Sargent  gazed  into  the  fire,  as  her  brother  turned  to 
reading  his  paper.  In  a  few  minutes  he  exclaimed: 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  ^3 

"Hello!  Helen!  listen  to  this:  'Notable  marriage  to 
occur.'  'The  number  of  matrimonial  alliances  between 
Boston  and  Clinton  families,  is  to  be  increased  by  still 
one  more.  Miss  Marie  Edwards  of  this  city, — a  sister  of 
Mrs.  Lundom  J.  White — is  to  be  married  to  Mr.  Rodger 
Latimer  of"  Boston.  The  date  has  not  been  determined 
on. '  " 

Miss  Sargent  sat  speechless,  gazing  at  her  brother  in 
blank  astonishment.  After  a  little  she  said: 

"What  paper  is  that?  give  it  to  me.  That  cannot  be 
true;  it's  too  dreadful!"  She  read  the  notice  over  and 
over,  and  then  again  fixed  her  eyes  on  her  brother  in 
dismay. 

"Who  is  this  girl?  What's  her  name?"  asked  the 
judge. 

"Poor  Margaret!  poor  Margaret!"  exclaimed  Miss  Sar- 
gent. "Marie  Edwards?  She's  that  large  girl  we  dined 
with  at  Blackwell's  last  week;  don't  you  remember  her?" 

"  No. " 

"The  only  girl  there;  she's  a  great  friend  of  Alice 
Blackwell's." 

"  I  don't  remember  her,"  said  the  judge,  "  what  sort  of 
a  girl  is  she?" 

"  I  know  very  little  of  her, "  replied  his  sister.  "  She  has 
the  reputation  of  being  a  great  society  girl,  and  that's  all 
I  know  of  her.  Dear  little  Margaret!  I  wish  I  could  go 
to  her.  But  you  see  she  don't  wish  for  me.  It's  just  as 
I  should  have  expected;  she  wishes  to  be  alone,  she  must 
fight  it  out  alone  first.  How  could  Rodger  Latimer  have 
done  such  a  thing!  I  can  hardly  believe  it;  Latimer  is 
not  of  Boston. " 

"His  uncle,  Gilbert  Latimer,  died  there,"  said  the 
judge,  "so  newspapermen  connect  the  name  of  Latimer 
with  Boston,  I  presume." 


164  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

Miss  Sargent  re-read  Miss  Bond's  letter.  "  It  would  not 
do  for  me  to  go  before  next  Saturday,"  she  said,  "a  week 
from  to-day — how  long  it  seems." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Margaret  was  so  completely  exhausted  by  the  violence 
of  her  feelings  Thursday  night,  and  for  want  of  sleep, 
that  she  went  to  sleep  early  Friday  night,  and  slept  until 
awakened  by  the  rising  bell  Saturday  morning.  Nine 
hours  of  sound  sleep  restored  the  tone  of  her  system.  She 
awakened  with  every  faculty  of  her  mind  possessed  of  its 
usual  vigor.  Since  she  read  Rodger's  letter  Thursday 
afternoon,  she  had  only  felt  keenly,  deeply,  suffering  in 
every  fiber  of  her  being;  but  after  the  first  overwhelming 
tide  of  anguish,  that  came  with  the  wakening  of  memory 
Saturday  morning,  had  subsided,  she  quieted  into  quest- 
ioning thought.  All  day  Saturday  and  Sunday,  she  was 
asking  herself  over  and  over,  that  question,  that  in  some 
form  or  other,  has  perhaps  been  more  frequently  asked 
than  any  other  since  the  world  was  made,  "  Why  is  this, 
why  must  it  be?"  She  did  not  weep,  neither  did  she 
pray.  When  doubts  of  Rodger  first  laid  hold  of  her,  she 
had  prayed  almost  continually.  She  then  went  to  God 
with  a  childish  faith;  believing  that  He  could,  and  there- 
fore would,  right  the  great  wrong;  that  He  would  insure 
the  fulfilment  of  his  laws,  and  see  that  truth  and  constancy 
received  their  natural  reward.  She  reasoned  that  the  God 
of  nature  would  permit  no  unnatural  thing  to  happen. 
But  believe  what  she  might,  she  felt  that  the  facts  were 
tightening  around  her,  and  what  she  termed  an  unnatural 
thing,  seemed  rapidly  hastening  to  consummation,  and 
no  remonstrance  was  offered  from  any  other  source,  than 
that  which  arose  from  her  own  woman's  heart.  Grad- 
ually she  prayed  less  and  less.  She  knew  that  she  had 
prayed  a  great  deal,  she  knew  that  she  had  believed  in  the 

'65 


166  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

answer  to  prayer;  she  also  knew  that  her  prayers  had  not 
been  answered.  Now  that  the  crisis  had  come,  that  the 
one  thing  of  all  else  in  the  universe,  which  she  wished  to 
retain,  had  been  torn  from  her;  now  that  the  greatest 
sorrow  which  she  could  imagine,  had  overwhelmed  her; 
she  could  only  cry:  "Why  is  it?  must  it  be?" 

Monday  morning  while  revolving  this  subject  of  prayer 
in  her  mind,  in  a  desultory  sort  of  way,  she  went  into  the 
kitchen  to  speak  to  Christine,  a  pious  Swede  girl  of  a  low 
order  of  intellect,  regarding  the  proper  washing  of  her 
father's  flannels.  She  found  the  girl  looking  oat  of  the 
window  at  the  gathering  clouds: 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  going  to  rain,  Christine,  and  wet 
your  clothes?"  kindly  asked  Margaret. 

"No  Miss,  it  ain't  going  to  rain,"  replied  the  girl, 
leaving  the  window,  and  looking  at  Margaret  with  an 
inane  grin  on  her  face;  "I  have  just  went  up  stairs,  and 
asked  God  not  to  let  it  rain." 

"  But,  Christine,  does  God  stop  the  rain  because  you  ask 
him?" 

"  Yes,  Miss,  He  knows  I'm  not  strong.  God  loves  me, 
and  He  won't  let  my  clothes  get  rained  on." 

"  Is  that  the  reason  He  stops  the  rain  from  wetting  your 
clothes,  because  He  loves  you  ?"  asked  Margaret. 

"  Yes,  I  talk  to  God,  and  He  loves  me.  I'm  saved.  God 
talks  to  me.  Oh,  no,  He  won't  let  Christine's  clothes  get 
rained  on,  for  I  prayed  to  God." 

"  But,  Christine,"  said  Margaret,  "  it  may  be  best  that  it 
should  rain.  God  knows  better  than  you." 

"  No,  Miss,  I  talked  to  God  last  night.  "  I  don't  sleep, 
so  I  talk  to  God.  He  made  it  rain  last  week  for  me;  the 
rainwater  was  gone,  that  other  water  makes  the  clothes 
bad;  it  hurted  my  hands;  I  asked  God  to  make  it  rain, 
God  loves  me,  He  filled  my  tubs.  God  knows  I'm  not 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  167 

strong.  He  wants  me  to  go  to  prayer-meeting  to-night,  so 
He  won't  let  the  rain  wet  my  clothes. "  The  little  old 
Swede  girl  seesawed  back  and  forth,  from  one  foot  to  the 
other;  her  roving  light  gray  eyes  twinkling  with  excite- 
ment, as  she  continued:  "You  are  saved,  Miss;  you  know 
God  loves  me." 

"Yes,  Christine,  I  presume  that  He  loves  you,  He  loves 
us  all.  Suppose  one  of  the  poor  men  living  down  by  the 
creek,  had  a  sick  wife  and  some  little  children,  and  he 
had  to  buy  bread  for  them  all,  and  all  that  he  had  to 
depend  on  was  his  garden;  and  his  potatoes  and  corn,  that 
he  wished  to  sell  for  medicine  for  his  wife,  and  bread  for 
his  children,  were  all  drying  up,  and  he  was  a  good  man, 
and  God  loved  him,  and  he  prayed  God  to  send  rain  on 
his  garden,  the  same  day  as  you  prayed  God  not  to  let  it 
rain  on  your  clothes,  which  of  you  would  God  hear?" 

"I  don't  care  for  that  man,"  answered  Christine,  after 
a  moment's  hesitation,  in  which  she  closed  her  teeth 
tightly,  as  she  grinned  from  ear  to  ear.  "  I'm  saved,  and 
God  loves  me.  He  will  be  good  to  that  poor  man,  but  He 
won't  let  the  rain  come  on  Christine's  clothes;  when  I  pray 
to  Him,  He  will  stop  the  rain.  Our  minister  says,  if  we 
believe,  God  will  talk  to  us,  and  do  Just  what  we  say.  I 
believe  God,  and  He  will  do  what  I  say." 

"You  ought  not  to  talk  in  that  way,  Christine,  we  ought 
to  do  what  God  says.  He  knows  best." 

"Yes,  Miss,"  .interrupted  the  girl,  with  a  determined 
air,  "  God  knows  I  love  Him,  and  I  talk  to  Him,  and  He 
will  do  what  I  say.  He  will  not  let  it  rain  if  I  pray  to 
Him.  God  knows  I'm  not  strong. " 

Margaret  gave  her  directions  and  returned  to  her  room. 
She  turned  in  disgust  from  the  ignorant  fanaticism  of  the 
Swede  girl,  who  considered  herself  the  first  care  of  the 
Infinite,  who,  she  believed,  would  direct  natural  laws 


1 68  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

with  reference  to  her  comfort;  who  believed  that  her  faith 
possessed  power  to  call  the  rain  down  into  her  wash- 
tubs,  and  to  prevent  its  natural  descent  upon  her  clothes 
on  the  line.  As  she  sat  by  her  west  window,  that  looked 
out  upon  the  old  apple  orchard,  where  the  trees  stood 
gnarled  and  bare  in  -the  cold  February  rain,  that  was 
slowly  falling  in  spite  of  Christine's  prayerSj  she  asked 
herself  if  there  were  not  many  who  occupied  an  intel- 
lectual altitude  as  far  above  her,  as  she,  above  the 
ignorant  Swede  woman;  who  might  from  their  nearer 
position  to  truth,  regard  her  religious  faith  as  narrow  and 
fanatical  and  selfish,  as  she,  from  her  superior  position, 
considered  Christine's  senseless  and  unreasonable.  She 
knew  the  pious  servant  was  wrong,  that  she  was  the 
v-ictim  of  an  honest  illusion.  Happy  in  her  credulity  she 
might  be,  but  mistaken,  she  most  surely  was.  Under  what 
errors  was  she  herself  living?  And  if  wrong,  how  far  wrong 
was  she  ?  What  of  the  faith  of  her  childhood  ?  What  did 
her  father  really  believe?  And  Aunt  Deb?  Did  her  min- 
ister believe  what  he  preached  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath? 
or  was  his  faith  merely  a  hereditary  one,  and  his  pulpit 
utterances  the  habitual  expressions  of  church  formulas? 
She  had  tried  to  obey  God,  she  was  very  sure  she  had 
done  the  best  she  had  known;  she  had  prayed,  she  had 
read  the  Bible,  and  tried  to  fashion  her  life  after  its  prin- 
ciples, and  heed  all  of  its  instructions.  It  was  true  this 
had  not  been  a  task,  for  its  requirements  were  so  reason- 
able and  just,  she  naturally  chose  to  do  what  they 
commanded ;  but  what  had  it  all  amounted  to  ?  Rodger 
was  gone,  and  her  life  was  ruined.  Why  was  it  all  per- 
mitted ?  Was  she  to  blame  ?  What  wrong  had  she  done  that 
this  retribution  should  come  upon  her?  Or  what  mistake 
had  she  made,  that  this  calamity  should  desolate  her  life? 
If  she  and  Rodger  were  not  to  have  been  married,  why 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE  169 

their  long  acquaintance,  their  love  for  each  other?  Was 
all  of  this  in  conformity  to  natural  law?  Was  this  end 
the  natural  result  of  a  cause?  If  so,  what  was  the  cause? 
Could  any  human  intellect  feel  its  way  back  from  the 
effect  to  the  cause?  It  all  seemed  very  strange  to  her, 
she  could  not  understand  it.  It  seemed  so  natural  to 
her  that  she  and  Rodger  should  love  each  other;  they 
were  specially  fitted  for  each  other  in  education,  similarity 
of  taste  and  temperament.  It  had  seemed  as  though  God 
had  designed  their  marriage,  and  that  only  good  and 
happiness  could  come  to  them,  and  all  related  to  them,  by 
their  marrying.  What  was  this- wicked  influence  that  had 
worked  the  defeat  of  so  beautiful  and  natural  a  result  ? 
All  of  her  ideas  of  a  Supreme  Being,  and  His  government, 
seemed  called  in  question.  It  was  all  a  tangle  and  a 
jargon. 

It  did  not  look  as  though  a  wise  Supreme  Being  had 
meted  out  her  life  in  loving  supervision,  and  it  did  seem 
as  though  every  natural  and  moral  law  had  been  broken 
through  to  place  her  in  the  distressing  position  that  she 
occupied.  She  left  her  seat  by  the  window;  not  that  the 
gloomy  [February  outlook  affected  her  in  the  least,  she 
was  too  much  engrossed  by  the  sorrow  of  her  heart  to 
care  for  either  sunshine  or  clouds,  but  she  was  intellec- 
tually weary  of  the  inner  strife.  She  picked  up  a  book 
from  the  table,  and  seated  herself  to  read.  It  was 
Motley's  Dutch  Republic,  and  she  opened  it  where  the 
bloody  Alva  was  in  the  height  of  his  career  of  devastation, 
and  followed  him  page  after  page  in  his  slaughter  of  the 
innocent,  and  oppression  of  the  noble.  Then  she  turned 
over  a  handful  of  leaves  at  random,  to  get  away  from  that 
scene  of  carnage,  and  alighted  upon  the  Calvinists  and 
Armenians  where  they  carved  and  toasted  and  fried  each 
other  as  they  got  the  chance.  She  had  read  the  book 


170 


RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 


before,  but  the  fatality  that  attended  the  cause  of  the 
Silent  Prince  during  so  many  years,  and  the  horrible  per- 
secutions of  the  different  Protestant  sects  of  each  other, 
had  never  impressed  her  as  strongly  as  at  this  time.  As 
she  read  she  was  pursuing  an  undertow  of  thought  on 
cause  and  effect,  natural  and  moral  law,  the  injustice  of 
much  of  that  suffering  of  which  she  was  reading,  and  all 
of  the  time  she  was  struggling  for  an  intellectual  recog- 
nition of  a  benevolent,  supernatural  agency.  Her  sense 
of  justice  was  outraged,  her  heart(  faint  with  sympathy, 
and  she  turned  sick  at  the  terrible  workings  of  such 
savage  hate  and  cruel  bigotry  against  personal  conscience 
and  individual  judgment,  and  all  done  in  the  name  of 
Christ,  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  in  obedience  to  Him! 
She  threw  the  book  from  her  with  an  expression  of  bitter 
sorrow  on  her  face,  so  bitter  it  verged  upon  anger  and 
revolt  against  some  one,  or  some  thing,  whoever,  or  what- 
ever, was  responsible  for  the  dreadful  sufferings  of  those 
noble  men  and  women.  All  of  that  tyranny  and  carnage 
— she  thought,  that  torturing  and  murdering  might  have 
been  the  natural  result  of  religious  fanaticism,  political 
ambition,  narrow  education,  and  unconscious  selfishness; 
but  what  comfort  would  such  a  statement  of  the  supremacy 
of  natural  law  have  been  to  those  innocent  victims  of  the 
rack,  dungeon  and  flames  ?  She  shuddered.  Was  she  a 
creation  in  the  order  of  law? — a  creature  of  natural  cause? 
and  a  victim  of  law?  It  was  terrible  to  think  of,  but  her 
life  looked  like  it;  and  was  there  no  spiritual  power  above 
natural  law  to  rescue  her?  She  rose  to  her  feet  and 
clasped  her  hands  in  front  of  her,  then  fell  upon  her 
knees;  not  to  pray,  but  from  habit.  Prayer  was  useless: 
this  inexorable  nature  was  blind  and  deaf,  possessed  of 
neither  love  nor  sympathy;  cries  and  tears  were  in  vain 
before  it.  She  felt  that  she  was  on  the  track  of  a  jugger- 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


171 


naut  car,  ponderous,  slow-coming,  but  not  to  be  escaped! 
right  on  the  track  of  this  law  that  had  been  silently 
'marching  down  the  ages,  never  deviating,  whether  in  its 
way  lay  the  bud  on  the  bush,  to  be  brought  out  in  the 
full  bloom  of  June  loveliness,  the  seed  in  the  ground  to 
be  developed  into  bread;  or  a  human  brain  it  was  manip- 
ulating into  insanity,  or  a  human  heart  out  of  which  it 
was  crushing  the  last  red  drop  of  life  blood:  never  turn- 
ing aside  through  all  of  the  generations  that  in  their  turn 
had  become  the  victims  of  its  power.  When  the  car 
reached  her,  in  solemn  majesty  it  would  pass  on,  and  that 
she  was  left  ground  to  powder  would  be  but  the  neces- 
sary fulfillment  of  its  unconscious  behest.  "  Just  one 
more,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  thought  of  the  thousands 
in  the  Netherlands  suffering  and  dying  for  their  country 
and  church.  What  could  she  expect  for  herself?  a  girl 
with  only  a  personal  sorrow.  Oh!  the  bitterness  of  it  all! 
its  hopelessness!  "Why  was  it?  Why  must  it  be?"  she 
cried.  She  did  not  think  of  her  future,  she  did  not 
know  that  she  had  any  future.  When  Rodger  went  out  of 
her  life  her  individual  life  seemed  ended.  She  buried  her 
face  in  her  hands,  and  shivered  with  fear.  She  was  afraid 
of  life,  of  the  terrible  influences  at  work,  afraid  of 
some  impersonal  power,  unnamed,  not  in  the  least  under- 
stood ;  that  seemed  to  her  to  be  devoid  of  knowledge,  and 
reason,  and  love;  and  possessed  of  only  force,  absolute, 
eternal  force.  Before  this  power  she  crouched  in  bitter 
reproach  and  utter  helplessness. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

This  expression  of  bitterness  on  Margaret's  face  struck 
Miss  Sargent  painfully,  the  following  Saturday,  as  Mar- 
garet opened  the  front  door  to  welcome  her  on  her  arrival 
at  Professor  McVey's.  It  was  an  expression  she  never 
had  seen  Margaret  wear  before,  during  their  long 
acquaintance. 

"I've  been  watching  for  you,"  said  Margaret,  as  she 
raised  both  of  her  arms  to  Miss  Sargent's  neck,  who  kissed 
her  again  and  again. 

"I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  dear — how  glad  I  am!"  said 
Miss  Sargent,  looking  down  on  Margaret  as  she  retained 
her  close  in  her  arms.  "You  have  not  treated  me  well 
in  not  coming  to  see  me  oftener;  but  I  know  dear,  it  was 
your  care  for  your  father  that  kept  you  so  closely  at  home, 
you  dear,  darling  daughter,  you!  Yes,  I'll  take  my  cloak 
off  in  a  minute,  I  just  want  to  hug  you  a  little,"  and  Miss 
Sargent  broke  out  into  a  cheerier  laughter  than  the  house 
had  heard  for  months,  as  she  gave  Margaret  another 
squeeze.  All  in  the  house  felt  her  coming  a  blessing. 
None,  even  in  thought  recognized  that  she  supplied  a  dole- 
ful need,  but  all  felt  an  influence  like  the  coming  of 
spring,  quickly  upon  a  dreary  winter,  like  a  diffused 
warmth  through  a  cold  room,  like  the  breaking  of  soft 
music  upon  a  weird  silence.  The  gloom  of  the  house  pen- 
etrated Miss  Sargent  through  every  fibre  of  her  sensitive 
nature.  She  smiled  at  Margaret's  playful  prattle  over 
her  father,  and  tears  filled  her  eyes  as  she  smiled,  to  see 
how  ignorant  this  sixty-five  year  old  man  was  of  the 
thorn  in  the  breast  of  the  nightingale  that  made  the 
music  of  his  life.  There  was,  to  her,  something 
172 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


173 


vastly  sadder  in  Margaret's  light  laugh  and  speech  full 
of  loving  raillery,  than  there  would  have  been  in  her  tears 
and  silence.  She  comprehended  the  effort  the  girl  was 
making,  and  it  struck  her  as  a  dance  on  a  grave,  or  a 
laugh  over  a  corpse.  No  one  would  have  imagined 
that  she  was  analyzing  the  state  and  the  relation  to  each 
other  of  the  three  inmates  of  the  house,  with  a  penetration 
that  in  a  few  hours  enabled  her  to  understand  Professor 
McVey's  physical  danger,and  enough  of  Margaret's  mental 
anguish  to  cause  her  own  soul  to  cry  out  within  her,  in 
sympathy  and  prayer  for  her,  and  something  of  Miss 
Bond's  lack  of  appreciation  of  Margaret's  condition. 
While  she  was  making  these  investigations,  she  was  chat.- 
ting  at  the  dinner-table  and  round  the  study  fire  through 
the  evening,  about  the  outside  world  in  a  hearty,  breezy 
way  that  awakened  laughter,  and  also  a  curiosity  that 
she  was  delighted  to  gratify.  Professsor  McVey  found 
himself  really  interested  in  bits  of  gossip  regarding  his 
city  acquaintances,  and  enjoyed  being  opposed  by  Miss 
Sargent  in  some  of  his  Views  regarding  the  importance 
of  the  study  of  Latin  and  Greek,  and  his  deprecation  of 
the  scientific  tendencies  of  the  age.  A  load  seemed  lifted 
off  of  Aunt  Deborah's  shoulders  by  the  mere  presence  of 
this  self-reliant,  capable  woman.  But  however  great 
Miss  Sargent's  power  to  entertain  Professor  McVey  and 
Miss  Bond,  she  felt  that  nothing  she  said  possessed  the 
least  interest  for  Margaret,  who  sat  in  the  friendly  light 
of  the  pink  lamp  shade,  with  her  thin  white  hand  over 
her  eyes.  Miss  Sargent  saw  that  all  of  Margaret's  ap- 
parent interest  in  the  family  group  was  assumed,  and 
that  the  sounds  crossing  and  re-crossing  from  one  speaker 
to  another  that  might  fall  upon  her  ear,  carried  no  mean- 
ing to  her  pre-occupied  mind.  After  they  had  parted  for 
the  night,  and  the  house  was  still,  Miss  Bond  was  startled 


174 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


by  a  knock  on  her  door.  She  opened  it  to  find  Miss  Sar- 
gent standing  without  in  the  dark  hall,  wrapped  in  a 
large  shawl. 

"Pardon  me  for  disturbing  you,  Miss  Bond,"  said  Miss 
Sargent,  "but  I  wish  to  talk  with  you  a  little  about  Mar- 
garet and  her  father,  and  feared  we  might  not  have  an 
opportunity  to-morrow,  as  it  is  Sunday,  and  Professor  Mc- 
Vey  will  probably  be  home  all  day,  and  I  must  return  on 
an  early  train  Monday  morning." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  talk  with  you,"  said  Miss  Bond, 
as  she  seated  her  guest  in  a  large  chair,  and  placed  a  has- 
sock for  her  feet. 

.  "Neither  Margaret  nor  her  father  seem  quite  well," 
began  Miss  Sargent. 

"  No,  they  are  not  well,"  replied  Miss  Bond,  "and  I 
hardly  know  which  is  the  worst,  and  I  really  do  not  know 
what  is  the  matter  of  either  of  them.  I  think  Margaret 
is  as  sick  as  her  father,  but  I  don't  see  as  she  has  any 
real  ailment." 

"  You  spoke  in  your  letter  of  the  breaking  of  her  en- 
gagement with  Rodger  Latimer,  does  she  talk  with  vou 
about  it?"  asked  Miss  Sargent. 

"No,"  replied  Miss  Bond  as  she  seated  herself  in  a 
little  rocking  chair,  opposite  to  Miss  Sargent.  "She  has 
never  said  a  word  to  me  about  it." 

"Then  from  what  do  you  draw  your  conclusions?" 

"  From  what  I  have  seen.  I  think  Margaret  knows 
that  I  know  the  engagement  is  broken,  and  is  willing  that 
I  should  know  it.  She  don't  wish  her  father  to  know 
anything  of  it,  for  fear  it  would. worry  him." 

"When  was  Mr.  Latimer  here  last?"  asked  Miss 
Sargent. 

"It  must  have  been  sometime  in  August,  about  the 
middle  of  August,  I  guess. " 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


175 


"Was  everything  pleasant  between  them  then?" 

"It  appeared  to  be,"  replied  Miss  Bond,  "he  was  with 
her  in  her  room  for  two  hours  or  more — yes,  I  remember 
now,  Professor  McVey  was  at  your  house,  and  he  tele- 
graphed Margaret  that  he  would  not  be  at  home  until  the 
next  day,  so  she  and  Rodger  took  the  phaeton  and  drove 
to  the  woods.  I  put  them  up  a  lunch,  and  they  didn't  get 
back  until  six,  and  then  after  dinner,  they  spent  the 
evening  on  the  piazza.  They  seemed  very  happy  all  day, 
as  far  as  I  could  see." 

"And  he  has  not  visited  her  since  that  day  ?"  asked 
Miss  Sargent. 

"No." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  the  frequency  of  his  letters, 
and  when  the  correspondence  ceased?" 

"I  used  to  frequently  bring  her  letters  from  the  office," 
replied  Miss  Bond.  "Whoever  goes  down  street,  brings 
the  mail.  Last  year,  I  know,  she  heard  from  him  very 
frequently,  but  as  far  as  I  know,  she  hasn't  had  a  letter 
from  him  for  months.  I  don't  believe  I've  brought  her 
any  for  three  months:  it  may  have  just  happened  so;  she 
may  have  gotten  them  herself,  or  George  may  have 
brought  them. " 

"  You  know  that  Mr.  Latimer  is  to  be  married  to  a  girl 
in  Clinton,  I  suppose,"  said  Miss  Sargent. 

"No,  I  didn't!"  exclaimed  Miss  Bond,  as  she  leaned 
forward  and  clasped  her  hands  on  her  knees.  "  He  must 
have  treated  Margaret  shamefully!  I  don't  believe  they 
ever  had  the  least  quarrel ;  he  has  just  left  her:  who  is 
this  girl ?" 

"  Her  name  is  Marie   Edwards,  she  is  a  sister  of  Mrs. 

Lundom  White.    I  first  learned  the  fact  from  a  notice  in  a 

newspaper,   and  thinking  that  possibly  there   might    be 

»some  mistake  about   it,    I  paid  Mrs.  White  a  visit  a  few 


176  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

days  after  the  engagement  was  announced  in  the  paper. 
She  is  a  talkative  woman,  and  I  felt  sure  that  she  would 
speak  of  it,  if  it  were  so,  and  I  hadn't  been  in  the  house 
five  minutes,  before  she  told  me  of  the  engagement,  and 
of  a  dinner  that  she  gave  to  Mr.  Latimer  and  some  of  his 
friends.  She  said  they  were  to  be  married  next  May,  or 
June,  probably  in  May. " 

"  You  were  not  invited  to  the  dinner,  as  one  of  Rodger's 
friends?"  interrogated  Miss  Bond. 

"  No,  Mr.  Latimer  is  a  man  of  too  much  sense,  to  wish 
me  to  be  a  guest  at  a  dinner  that  was  a  sort  of  announce- 
ment to  his  friends  of  his  engagement  to  Miss  Edwards, 
after  the  two  summers  I  spent  in  Europe  with  him  and 
Margaret.  But  Margaret  seems  to  me  to  be  in  a  very 
bad  condition,  physically  and  mentally." 

"I  don't  think  she  is  well,"  replied  Miss  Bond. 

"  Well  !"  repeated  Miss  Sargent,  "her  condition  is  pitiful : 
how  she  has  changed!  I  was  shocked  when  I  saw  her,  it 
was  with  the  greatest  effort  that  I  controlled  myself.  I 
never  saw  a  sadder  face;  there  is  something  almost  un- 
earthly in  her  appearance.  Have  you  noticed  her  hands? 
they  are  absolutely  shrunken  with  pain.  She  seems  so  ut- 
terly bereft,  utterly  hopeless,  and  how  she  has  isolated  her- 
self from  all  human  sympathy.  I  cannot  approach  her  as  I 
used  to;  it  seems  as  though  an  almost  infinite  space  sep- 
arated between  us.  Something  must  be  done  for  her,  but 
God  only  knows  what."  Miss  Sargent  wiped  the  tears 
from  her  eyes. 

"Why,  Miss  Sargent,  you  frighten  me,"  said  Miss  Bond, 
"  I  didn't  know  that  Margaret  was  as  sick  as  you  say." 

"You  have  seen  the  change  come  on  gradually,"  replied 
Miss  Sargent,  "and  so. have  not  noticed  it  I  suppose,  and 
then  Margaret  has  such  a  power  of  will;  her  self-repres- 
sion is  something  terrible.  But  we  must  do  what  we  can- 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


177 


to  get  her  away  from  Edgewood  for  awhile.  Doctor 
Kean  says  that  he  feels  anxious  about  Professor  McVey. " 

"  I  thought  the  doctor  said  there  was  nothing  the  matter 
of  him,"  said  Miss  Bond. 

"  He  told  me,"  replied  Miss  Sargent,  "  that  there  was 
no  organic  disease,  only  a  gradual  weakening,  a  sort  of 
letting  go  his  hold  on  life.  But  he  said  that  when  men 
of  Professor  McVey's  age  get  into  that  condition,  they 
seldom  come  out  of  it.  Now  it  seems  to  me  that  Mar- 
garet and  her  father,  better  start  immediately  for  Florida, 
and  go  prepared  to  stay  two  or  three  months.  They  both 
need  the  change." 

"  I  don't  believe  either  of  them  will  go,"  said  Miss  Bond. 

"  Doctor  Kean  said  Professor  McVey  might  be  com- 
pelled to  go,  in  order  to  live  through  the  spring,"  said 
Miss  Sargent.  "  I'm  sure  if  I  repeat  to  Margaret  what 
Doctor  Kean  said  to  me,  she  will  hurry  her  father  off." 

"  But  you  can't  convince  Professor  McVey  that  he  is 
sick;  he  won't  go,"  said  Miss  Bond. 

"I  don't  wish  to  convince  him  that  he  is  sick,"  replied 
Miss  Sargent;  "that  would  have  a  depressing  effect  on 
him.  I  can  influence  him,  if  in  no  other  way,  through 
his  affection  for  Margaret.  It  would  never  do  to  tell  him 
what  I  think  of  Margaret's  condition,  but  he  is  so  alive 
to  everything  that  bears  on  her  happiness,  he  will  go 
anywhere  that  is  for  her  good." 

"You  cannot  make  him  see  it,"  persisted  Miss  Bond. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  can,  in  ten  minutes,  and  without  alarming 
him  either,"  cheerfully  replied  Miss  Sargent. 

And  she  did  use  her  influence  so  effectively,  that  before 
sundown  Sunday  evening,  it  was  decided  that  Margaret 
and  her  father  would  start  for  Florida  the  next  Wed- 
nesday, to  remain  as  long  as  seemed  desirable  to  either  of 
them,  or  as  Doctor  Kean  might  advise.  This  point 

12  Rodger  Larimer's  Mistake. 


178  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

gained,  Miss  Sargent  turned  her  entire  thought  to  Mar- 
garet's present  condition.  She  was  anxious  to  be  of  some 
little  comfort,  or  assistance  to  Margaret,  before  her  return 
home.  But  the  woman,  nearly  half  a  century  old,  stood 
in  awe  before  the  girl  of  twenty.  There  was  about  Mar- 
garet the  dignity  of  silence,  and  the  majestic  sacredness 
of  sorrow.  How  to  approach  her,  Miss  Sargent  did  not 
know,  and  at  times  she  questioned  if  it  were  best  to  try. 
But  she  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  going  home,  and 
leaving  that  delicate,  suffering  girl  to  go  off  to  Florida 
with  her  sick  father,  without  at  least  assuring  her,  in  a 
warm,  tender  way,  of  her  great  love  for  her,  and  estab- 
lishing to  some  degree,  the  old  confidence  between  them, 
that  had  existed  for  years,  but  which  now  seemed  entirely 
destroyed.  But  how  was  this  to  be  done?  While  Margaret 
was  a  thoughtful  hostess,  observant  of  every  courteous 
and  affectionate  attention,  she  gave  Miss  Sargent  no 
opportunity  to  see  her  alone. 

They  all-  sat  up  late  Sunday  night,  quietly  talking 
around  the  study  fire.  As  the  clock  struck  eleven,  Mar- 
garet in  her  usual  gentle  way,  insisted  that  her  father 
should  go  to  bed. 

"  You  know,  papa,"  she  said  as  she  leaned  over  the  back 
of  his  chair,  and  placed  her  hands  on  each  side  of  his 
face,  "that  none  of  us  can  get  away  while  you  are  talk- 
ing, and  we  will  all  be  down  sick  to-morrow,  then  Uncle 
John  will  never  again  let  Aunt  Helen  come  to  see  us. 
And  you  have  a  great  deal  to  do  before  Wednesday. 
Just  think,  papa!  roses  in  February,  and  sitting  under 
orange  trees!" 

Miss  Sargent  rose  to  her  feet,  to  supplement  Margaret's 
efforts,  as  did  Miss  Bond  also.  Professor  McVey  reluct- 
antly left  his  easy  chair,  and  bright  fire,  although  his 
daughter  led  him  by  one  of  his  hands  clasped  in  both  of 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


179 


hers.  She  kissed  him  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  turned 
from  him  to  Miss  Sargent,  whom  she  also  kissed  good- 
night, and  who  passed  up  the  stairs  after  Professor  McVey. 
Margaret,  instead  of  following  them,  returned  to  the  study, 
which  Miss  Sargent  observed  from  the  hall  above.  She 
hesitated  a  moment,  determined  to  make  her  own  oppor- 
tunity, descended  the  stairs,  and  entered  the  study,  where 
she  found  Margaret  sitting  on  the  rug  before  the  fire, 
with  her  hands  clasped  around  her  knees.  Miss  Sargent 
seated  herself  on  a  hassock  by  Margaret's  side.  For  a 
while  neither  of  them  spoke,  or  in  any  way  recognized 
the  presence  of  the  other.  Margaret  hadn't  a  word  to 
say  to  any  living  mortal,  and  Miss  Sargent  didn't  know 
what  to  say.  She  feared  to  give  utterance  to  any  common- 
place remark,  upon  indifferent  subjects;  or  even  to  speak 
of  the  approaching  trip  to  Florida,  or  Professor  McVey's 
health.  Those  subjects  had  been  talked  over  between 
them  during  the  day,  and  to  touch  upon  an  ordinary  topic 
now,  might  cut  off  her  last  chance  of  getting  nearer  to 
Margaret,  near  enough  to  be  of  some  comfort  to  her. 
So  they  sat  in  silence,  both  gazing  into  the  fire.  After 
a  lapse  of  fifteen  minutes,  Miss  Sargent  turned  her  head 
toward  Margaret,  and  looked  at  her  intently.  Margaret 
was  conscious  of  her  gaze,  and  in  a  few  minutes  she 
unclasped  her  hands  from  her  knees,  and  laid  one  of 
them,  the  left  one,  on  Miss  Sargent's  lap.  Miss  Sargent 
quietly  clasped  it  in  one  of  her  own,  and  held  it  in  a 
firm,  gentle  grasp  for  a  few  minutes,  then  she  opened  her 
hand  that  held  it,  and  commenced  to  stroke  it  tenderly 
with  her  other  hand.  She  was  so  afraid  of  hurting  Mar- 
garet she  dared  not  speak.  After  a  little  she  ceased  the 
motion  of  her  hand,  and  fastened  her  eyes  upon  the 
ringless  finger.  When  Margaret  noticed  that  Miss 
Sargent  was  looking  at  her  hand,  she  said  in  a  measured, 
emotionless  way: 


l8o  RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE 

"Aunt  Helen,  as  a  matter  of  course  you  kno\v  the 
fact,  in  knowing  that,  you  know  all  there  is  to  be  known. 
If  there  was  anything  to  tell,  anything  to  say,  I  should 
wish  to  say  it  to  you,  but  there  is  not. "  As  she  ceased 
speaking  she  drew  her  hand  from  Miss  Sargent,  and 
again  clasped  her  knees,  and  continued  her  gazing  into 
the  fire. 

Never  in  her  life  had  Miss  Sargent  been  at  such  an 
utter  loss;  every  form  of  speech  that  rose  before  her 
mind,  seemed  a  mocking  platitude  to  utter  in  the 
presence  of  such  suffering.  Nothing  but  a  denial  of  the 
fact  could  comfort  Margaret  now,  and  such  denial  Miss 
Sargent,  alas,  was  powerless  to  give.  She  felt  as  she 
looked  at  the  thin  white  face  beside  her,  that  Margaret 
had,  in  her  searchings  for  some  way  out  of  this  terrible 
sorrow,  gone  far  deeper,  and  far  beyond,  any  consolation 
that  her  human  reason  could  give.  But  she  must  say 
something  to  the  child  she  loved  so  much.  Remem- 
bering Margaret's  religious  faith,  as  she  had  seen  it  man- 
ifested for  many  years,  she  thought  to  appeal  to  that. 
She  placed  one  arm  around  Margaret  and  drew  her  head 
to  her  shoulder,  and  as  she  held  her  closely,  she  leaned 
her  head  upon  the  girl's  forehead. 

"All  of  this  seems  very  hard,  dear,  cruel  and  hard," 
she  said,  "  it  seems  so  to  me,  I  cannot  understand  it  at 
all;  it  is  a  great  trial  of  my  faith,  and  I  know,  darling, 
it  is  a  hundred  times  harder  for  you  to  bear,  than  I  can 
even  think.  But  some  way  it  is  right,  blasphemous  as 
that  may  sound  to  you."  Margaret  said  nothing  as  her 
head  rested  upon  Miss  Sargent's  shoulder.  After  a  few 
moments'  silence,  Miss  Sargent  continued,  "  Now,  yes, 
many  years  ago,  I  could  look  back  on  a  great  sorrow 
that  came  to  me  in  my  youth,  that  at  the  time  seemed 
cruel,  and  more  than  I  could  bear;  and  now  I  see,  not 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  181 

only  that  it  was  right,  but  I  see  just  why  it  was  right. 
When  I  was  suffering,  I  could  not  believe  that  it  ever 
could  be  for  the  best,  but  I  came  to  feel  that  God  does  all 
things  well;  God  saw  through  so  many  more  years  than 
I  could.  If  I  had  seen  all  things  as  God  saw  them,  at 
the  time  He  permitted  such  a  sorrow  to  come  upon  me — 
and  as  I  saw  them  afterward,  I  should  have  done,  regard- 
ing myself,  had  I  possessed  the  power,  just  as  God  did. 
Oh  if  we  could  only  believe  in  His  wisdom  and  love,  and 
trust  Him,  and  wait  for  the  outcome  of  our  lives  in 
patient  faith."  She  softly  kissed  the  head(  that  leaned 
against  her;  Margaret  breathed  in  a  regular,  quiet  way, 
but  said  nothing.  "  We  don't  know,"  pursued  Miss  Sar- 
gent, "much  about  the  future  dear,  even  of  our  own  lives 
here  upon  earth,  much  less  of  the  great  hereafter.  Your 
Heavenly  Father  loves  you  tenderly,  my  darling;  you 
cannot  tell  what  He  is  even  now  planning  for  you,  what 
He  is  doing  for  your  future." 

"  Mixing  a  cup  of  wormwood  and  gall,  probably,"  said 
Margaret,  in  a  hard  voice,  as  she  raised  her  head,  clasped 
her  hands  again  around  her  knees,  and  gazed  into  the 
smoldering  fire.  Miss  Sargent  sat  perfectly  still;  the 
tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks,  and  dropped  on  her  hands 
that  lay  in  her  lap.  In  a  few  minutes  Margaret  turned 
toward  her. 

"  Aunt  Helen,  I  know  how  good  you  are,  and  I  know 
that  you  love  me,"  she  said,  as  she  threw  both  of  her  arms 
across  Miss  Sargent's  lap;  "  don't  think  me  ungrateful. 
You  know  that  1  love  you  dearly,  and  in  all  of  this  world, 
you  are  the  only  human  being  that  I  can  go  to  for  counsel, 
and  I  know  that  you  will  never  fail  me,  for  you  never 
fail  any  one.  If  there  was  anything  you  could  do  for  me 
I  would  ask  it  of  you  freely;  neither  you  nor  I  can  change 
or  modify  events,  so  there  is  no  use  in  talking  about  them. 


182  RODGER  LATIMER'S  ItflSTAKE 

I  know  all  about  God's  love,  and  quiescent  waiting,  and 
everything  of  that  kind — all  about  it — there  is  nothing 
to  be  done. " 

"  Nothing  that  I  can  do,  my  poor  darling,"  said  Miss 
Sargent,  as  she  looked  into  the  desolate  face  that  was 
turned  toward  her;  her  tears  were  flowing  from  her  eyes. 
It  seemed  to  her  as  though  she  should  weep  her  heart  out 
over  the  forsaken  girl. 

''Nothing,"  replied  Margaret.  "Yes,  there  is  some- 
thing, Aunt  Helen,  that  will  be  a  help,  and  a  comfort  to 
me.  Sometime,  before  long,  I  shall  speak  to  papa  re- 
garding this  affair — I  shall  tell  him — that — that,"  Mar- 
garet stopped  for  a  moment,  but  without  any  change  in 
the  expression  of  her  face;  the  hesitation  was  for  a  mo- 
ment only,  then  she  resumed,  speaking  slowly  and  dis- 
tinctly, with  a  business-like,  mechanical  accuracy:  "I 
shall  tell  him  that  I  shall  never  marry,  and  in  order  to 
make  him  feel  perfectly  comfortable  regarding  me,  I  shall 
talk  of  the  pleasure  of  living  with  you,  and  having  Uncle 
John  look  after  me.  As  a  matter  of  course,  papa  and 
Aunt  Deb,  and  you,  and  Uncle  John,  will  die  before  I  do, 
that  is  according  to  nature.  You  understand,  Aunt 
Helen,  for  myself  I  haven't  a  care.  The  future  will  bring 
its  own  events,  and  it  is  immaterial  what  they  are,  but 
papa  must  not  have  an  anxious  thought  about  me.  So  if 
you  could  say  to  hkn,  in  a  way  that  will  not  startle  him, 
and  set  him  to  thinking,  that  you  are  to  care  for  me — you 
know  just  how  to  say  it — he  must  not  be  disturbed,  he 
must  think  I  am  perfectly  happy,- and  that  I  will  always 
be  so,  no  matter  what  may  happen." 

"  Yes,  I  understand  you  dear.  I  will  make  him  feel  that 
love  and  security  will  be  yours  under  all  circumstances, 
no  matter  what  may  happen,  and  will  not  designate  the 
happenings.  If  you  should  outlive  your  father,  Margaret, 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  183 

remember  then  you  are  to  be  my  own  child.  Aunt  Deb- 
orah is  well  enough,  but  I  am  to  be  first.  I  shall  admit  no 
claim  before  mine.  You — 

"I  was  perfectly  honest,  Aunt  Helen,"  interrupted 
Margaret,  in  whose  face  not  an  expression  of  interest  or 
relief  had  been  roused  by  Miss  Sargent's  affectionate 
declarations,  "when  I  said  that  for  myself  I  hadn't  a 
thought."  Nor  had  she.  Life  had  done  its  worst  to  her. 
After  the  deathblow  given,  possible  pin-pricks  were  not 
worth  guarding  against.  "You  are  very  kind,"  she  con- 
tinued, "but  it  was  only  of  papa's  quiet  and  happiness  I 
was  thinking,  so  please  do  this  for  me."  Margaret  drew 
her  arms  off  Miss  Sargent's  lap,  and  clasped  her  hands 
again  around  her  knees. 

"Yes,  dear,  I  can  easily  do  that,  but  Margaret,  you 
must  let  me  speak  to  you  of  yourself  fqr  a  moment,"  said 
Miss  Sargent,  as  she  placed  both  of  her  arms  around 
Margaret  and  drew  her  close  to  her.  "  You  are  very 
mature  for  your  age,  my  darling,  so  I  shall  speak  plainly 
without  fear  of  distressing  you,  and  you  know  me  well 
enough  to  know,  that  I  mean  every  word  that  I  say,  to 
the  fullest  possible  meaning  of  that  word.  No  one  can 
tell  what  the  result  is  to  be  of  your  dear  father's  present 
condition.  You  have  practical  sense,  and  although  you 
know  nothing  of  business,  you  know  that  as  long  as  people 
live,  they  have  daily  needs,  and  must  have  food  and  shel- 
ter. You  must  know  too  that  your  father  has  consid- 
erable property,  and  that  brother  John  has  the  care  of  it. 
We  will  make  your  father  feel  perfectly  happy  regarding 
your  present  condition,  and  your  future.  Then,  my  dar- 
ling, although  you  see  nothing  in  life  and  no  possible 
future  before  you,  but  the  simple  routine  of  existence — 
and  I  see  very  plainly  that  on  this  point  you  must  be  left 
to  yourself  and  God,  for  think  what  you  may,  dear,  there 


184  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

is  a  personal  God  who  is  caring  for  you — but  this  routine 
of  your  existence,  darling,  is  to  be  spent  in  my  arms,  close 
to  my  heart.  Don't  say  no,  don't  say  what  I  suppose  is 
true,  that  you  don't  care  where  it  is  spent;  only  let  me 
say  that  I  am  getting  to  be  an  old  woman,  and  you  are 
my  only  child.  Dear  Margaret!  how  I  have  loved  you 
all  of  these  years!"  exclaimed  Miss  Sargent,  as  she 
passionately  pressed  Margaret  closer  to  her  and  kissed 
her  hair  and  forehead.  "  I  would  like  to  take  you  home 
with  me  now,  and  never  be  separated  from  you  another 
hour,  only  that  I  know  your  father  needs  you.  But  child, 
you  are  to  belong  to  me,  so  remember  darling,  wont  you, 
to  write  to  me  and  send  for  me,  the  first  moment  I  can  be 
of  use  to  you  or  your  dear  father?" 

Oh!  the  wonderful  power  of  human  love!  Margaret's 
sad  eyes  were  filled  with  healing  tears,  as  she  raised  them 
to  Miss  Sargent,  and  her  lips  lost  their  rigid  tension,  and 
quivered  with  emotion.  She  raised  her  hand  and  laid  it 
softly  on  the  side  of  Miss  Sargent's  face,  the  gentle  caress 
which  she  so  often  gave  her  father ! 

"Yes,  Aunt  Helen,  I'll  write  to  you,  and  I'll  live  with 
you  always."  It  was  all  she  said,  but  it  was  enough. 

"Bless  you!"  cried  Miss  Sargent,  as  she  placed  her 
hand  lightly  on  Margaret's  head,  and  held  it  close  to  her 
breast.  The  two  women  sat  in  silence,  with  clasped  hands. 
The  clock  on  the  mantel  above  them  ticked  its  monot- 
onous to  and  fro,  and  the  fire  fell  so  low,  that  there 
were  but  a  few  coals  in  the  ashes.  Half  an  hour  had 
passed,  when  Miss  Sargent  felt  the  clasp  of  Margaret's 
hand  loosen,  and  her  head  press  more  heavily  on  her 
breast,  and  she  knew  that  the  sorrow-worn  girl  was  asleep. 
She  had  kept  many  vigils  during  her  life,  beside  the  sick 
beds,  and  deathbeds,  of  her  own  household;  in  hospitals, 
sitting  sometimes,  the  night  hours  through,  as  some 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  185 

unfortunate  woman  who  had  seen  better  days,  was  breath- 
ing out  the  life  she  was  weary  of;  and  saddest  of  all,  in 
the  city  prison,  beside  erring,  desperate  women,  whom 
she  was  striving  to  hold  with  the  strong  grasp  of  a 
woman's  sympathy,  and  a  Christian's  faith.  But  she  felt 
that  never  had  she  held  a  holier  watch,  than  through  this 
silent  midnight  hour,  as  she  clasped  to  her  heart  in 
peaceful  slumber  this  young  girl,  in  whose  soul  the  bitter 
waters  of  anguish  had  quenched  all  hope  in  life,  and  all 
faith  in  God. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Professor  McVey  did  not  gain  strength  as  Doctor  Kean 
hoped  he  would,  by  a  prolonged  stay  in  a  mild  climate. 
He  very  much  enjoyed  the  change  from  the  snow  and 
piercing  winds  of  the  North,  to  the  balmy  air  and  almost 
constant  sunshine  of  the  extreme  south  of  Florida.  He 
had  never  been  in  any  of  the  Southern  States  before,  nor 
had  he  ever  passed  the  cold  season  in  any  mild  climate. 
This  was  his  first  relief  from  the  raw  springs  of  the  North, 
and  it  was  as  though  he  had  passed  into  a  new  state  of 
existence.  His  days  seemed  filled  with  a  delicious 
languor,  and  everything  pleased  him.  Even  the  sand 
flies  and  mosquitoes,  that  Margaret  found  annoying,  did 
not  seem  to  disturb  him;  but  he  gained  no  strength. 
Every  day  he  took  a  little  less  exercise,  and  there  was  a 
gradual,  although  scarcely  perceptible,  decrease  in  the 
amount  of  food  that  he  ate.  When  Margaret  would  press 
him  to  eat  more  freely,  he  would  reply  that  he  had  all 
that  his  system  demanded.  One  day  he  said  to  her,  as 
she  rather  persistently  recommended  some  delicacy  that 
she  had  prepared  for  him: 

"My  child,  I  eat  all  that  my  appetite  calls  for.  I 
would  take  more  if  I  could,  for  everything  tastes  so 
good  down  here;  this  is  a  perfect  climate,  it  makes  phy- 
sical existence  a  delight." 

"But  you  eat  so  little,  papa,"  said  Margaret. 

"  A  man  needs  but  little  food,  living  in  this  air,"  replied 
her  father.  "  He  gets  much  nutrition  from  these  sea 
breezes.  And  remember,  my  child,  that  I  am  doing 
nothing,  neither  mentally  nor  physically." 

Margaret  was  satisfied,  and  tranquilly  watched  beside 
1 86 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  187 

her  father's  lounge,  which  she  had  placed  near  fhe  open 
door  of  their  parlor,  from  which,  across  the  sand,  he  had 
a  distant  view  of  the  ocean.  He  would  doze  off  half  a 
dozen  times  a  day,  into  a  quiet  and  perfectly  natural 
sleep,  and  when  he  wakened,  always  found  Margaret  by 
his  side,  with  the  book  open  at  the  place  where  she  had 
left  off  reading,  when  she  saw  he  was  fast  asleep.  Then 
he  would  ask  her  to  proceed  with  her  reading,  which  she 
would  do,  but  gradually  her  voice  would  mingle  with  the 
twitter  of  the  birds  in  the  rose  bushes  just  outside  the 
door,  and  he  would  be  hushed  to  sleep  again.  As  the 
heat  increased  with  the  advance  of  the  season,  by  the 
advice  of  their  resident  physician,  they  moved  Northward 
to  St.  Augustine,  arid  then  in  a  week  or  so  afterward, 
again  moved  North,  to  Jacksonville;  and  by  the  middle 
of  April,  they  were  pleasantly  located  in  Aiken,  South 
Carolina.  If  it  were  possible,  Professor  McVey  was  more 
pleased  with  Aiken  than  *with  any  of  the  places  they 
had  visited  in  Florida,  and  Margaret  was  delighted  to 
find  that  her  father  seemed  to  gain  strength,  from  the  tonic 
air  of  the  high  altitude.  He  frequently  would  walk  on 
the  hotel  piazza,  and  go  out  and  gather  for  himself, 
bunches  of  the  wonderful  Aiken  roses,  that  never  ceased  to 
delight  him.  Every  day  he  would  have  Margaret  drive 
him  out  to  one  of  the  pine  groves  that  surrounded  the 
place,  when  he  would  lean  back  against  the  soft  cushions 
that  Margaret  arranged  for  him  in  the  high-backed  seat 
of  their  carriage,  and  listen  to  the  wind  in  the  pines.  He 
never  seemed  to  tire  of  the  woods,  and  often  insisted  on 
staying  out  so  late,  that  it  required  adroit  management  on 
Margaret's  part  to  get  him  in,  out  of  the  night  air,  or 
before  darkness  was  down  on  them.  Those  were  peaceful, 
happy  days  for  both  father  and  daughter.  Professor 
McVey  had  no  care,  suffered  no  pain,  and  was  constantly 


l88  RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

attended  by  Margaret,  who  herself  rendered  him  every 
service  she  possibly  could,  and  was  loth  to  have  a 
servant  touch  him.  Her  tender  ministrations,  and  the 
beautiful  surroundings,  combined  to  make  those  few 
spring  months  one  of  the  happiest  periods  of  Professor 
McVey's  life.  And  Margaret  wondered  at  her  own 
serenity;  she  seemed  to  have  passed  from  a  world  of  snow 
and  harsh  winds,  and  horrible  dreams,  to  one  of  balmy 
air,  of  flowers,  and  of  beautiful  realities.  The  preceding 
six  months  were  as  a  terrible  nightmare,  from  which  she 
had  awakened.  When  she  thought  of  Rodger  at  all,  it 
was  of  the  Rodger  of  a  year  ago,  of  the  dear  Lausanne 
Rodger,  who  was  in  harmony  with  her  present  life,  amid 
the  roses  and  pines,  and  soft  air  full  of  the  hum  of  bees, 
and  song  of  birds.  But  she  thought  of  Rodger  very  little, 
her  mind  was  too  fully  occupied  with  her  father,  of  whom 
she  thought  every  waking  moment,  and  often  dreamed  of 
at  night. 

Doctor  Mackintosh,  their  Aiken  physician,  passed  half 
an  hour  each  day  with  his  patient,  pleasantly  chatting, 
passing  lightly  from  one  subject  to  another,  in  a  way  that 
would  amuse,  rather  than  tire  a  sick  man,  and  doing  most 
of  the  talking  himself.  It  never  occurred  to  Margaret  to 
study  the  physician's  face  for  a  report  of  her  father's  con-- 
dition,  nor  would  she  have  gained  any  information  had  she 
done  so.  The  only  time  there  was  any  peculiar  expression 
on  the  face  of  the  doctor,  was  when  Margaret  was  busily 
attending  to  her  father's  needs,  and  his  eye  rested  upon 
her.  He  evinced  no  anxiety  when  he  was  observing  Pro- 
fessor McVey,  but  his  face  was  full  of  solicitude,  as  he 
furtively  regarded  Margaret.  One  day  he  said  to  her: 

"Do  you  expect  any  of  your  friends  to  join  you  this 
spring,  Miss  McVey,  or  are  they  too  loyal  to  the  North, 
to  come  down  here  and  share  this  beautiful  weather  with 
us  Southerners?" 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  189 

"I  don't  think  their  loyalty  to  the  North  would  keep 
any  of  our  friends  away  from  here,"  replied  Margaret, 
"  although  their  ignorance  of  your  lovely  country  might. 
But  we  have  no  friends  in  our  own  town  who  have  leisure 
to  travel  at  this  season.  In  a  college  town  we  all  stay 
at  home  until  the  last  of  June,  and  then  take  a  three 
months'  vacation." 

"I  didn't  know  but  that  some  of  your  Clinton  friends 
might  be  coming  to  meet  you,"  said  the  doctor.  "Clinton 
usually  sends  a  large  delegation  here  during  the  spring 
months.  This  is,  perhaps,  rather  late  for  any  new  comers, 
but  May  is  a  beautiful  month  on  this  tableland." 

"  No,  not  unless  papa  or  I  need  some  one  to  look  after 
us,  and  we-  are  both  doing  so  well,  that  I  feel  almost 
ashamed  to  say  that  we  are  here  for  our  health. "  As 
Margaret  said  this,  she  left  her  chair,  and  seated  herself 
on  the  floor  in  front  of  the  sofa,  where  her  father  was 
reclining,  and  as  she  took  one  of  his  hands  and  kissed  it, 
she  continued:  "I  suspect,  papa,  Doctor  Mackintosh 
wonders  why  I  insist  upon  his  coming  to  see  you  every 
day,  now  that  you  feel  so  well;  you  tell  him  he  must 
come,  if  only  to  say  how  much  nourishment  you  better 
take—" 

"No,  no,"  interrupted  the  doctor,  "I  do  not  wonder  at 
all,  nor  do  I  intend  to  be  robbed  of  my  daily  visits  to 
you;  we  doctors  are  hard  to  get  rid  of,  when  once  called 
in.  but  I  must  be  honest  with  you,  for  the  sake  of  my 
professional  reputation,  otherwise  I  might  be  inclined  to 
keep  you  and  your  father  here,  until  the  heat  became 
injurious  to  you  both.  That  was  my  reason  for  asking 
you  if  you  expected  any  friends  to  join  you  here.  If  you 
do,  they  will  have  to  come  soon,  for  it  is  growing  too 
warm  for  your  father.  This  heat  may  be  agreeable  to 
Northerners,  but  it  frequently  is  debilitating,  and  it 


1 9o  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

would  not  be  well  for  your  father  to'  remain  in  it  much 
longer.  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  say  this,  for  in  advising 
you  to  take  him  back  to  the  more  invigorating  air  of  your 
lake  region,  I  am  depriving  myself  of  the  pleasantest 
hour  of  my  day. " 

Margaret  was  surprised;  her  father  appeared  very  com- 
fortable, and,  happy:  he  was  quiet  and  satisfied  with 
everything,  he  did  not  seem  to  care  whether  he  staid  in 
Aiken,  or  returned  to  Edgewood.  Of  late  he  had  seemed  to 
grow  indifferent,  he  never  expressed  a  wish  for  anything; 
not  even  to  stay  in  the  pine  woods,  when  Margaret  said 
it  was  time  for  them  to  return  to  the  hotel. 

Doctor  Mackintosh  carried  his  point,  and  in  a  few  days 
the  trunks  were  repacked,  and  they  were  ready  to  begin 
their  journey.  Margaret  did  not  observe  it  at  the  time, 
but  she  afterward  thought  of  how  everything  was  at  hand 
to  expedite  their  departure.  Servants  and  horses,  and 
all  needed  things  supplied  in  some  magical  way,  every- 
thing that  could  add  to  her  father's  comfort  on  his 
homeward  trip.  And  she  knew,  when  she  looked  back  to 
it,  that  it  was  kind  Doctor  Mackintosh  that  had  saved 
her  all  thought  and  care  in  the  preparations;  and  that  it 
was  his  foresight  that  provided  an  ample  supply  of  differ- 
ent tonics  and  nourishments  for  her  father's  use  on  the 
way. 

"  I  see  that  you  have  not  much  knowledge  of  sickness, 
Miss  McVey,"  said  the  doctor,  to  Margaret,  on  the 
morning  of  their  departure,  "although  you  are  a  perfect 
nurse,  the  very  best  I  ever  saw.  Your  father  is  very 
comfortable  this  morning,  and  he  will,  without  doubt, 
have  a  comfortable  journey.  He  probably  will  not  leave 
his  berth,  in  fact,  he'd  better  lie  quietly  in  it  all  of  the 
way.  The  journey  will  tire  him  less  in  that  way,  and  at  the 
best,  these  railroad  trips  are  exhausting.  Let  him  sleep, 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  191 

but  be  sure  and  give  him  his  medicine  and  nourishment 
regularly.  Insist  upon  his  taking  them,  even  if  he  is  a 
little  averse  to  doing  so.  He  seems  very  well  this  morn- 
ing, but — I  don't  know — it  is  best  to  do  a  dozen  unneeded 
things,  rather  than  run  the  slightest  chance  that  you  may 
need  something  that  we  have  neglected  to  provide;  and 
possibly,  your  father  may  need  a  change  of  tonic  when 
he  reaches  Clinton;  so  you  better  give  me  your  Clinton 
physician's  address,  and  I  will  telegraph  him  my  opinion. 
Doctor  Kean,  did  you  say  the  name  was?  You  will  have 
a  pleasant  trip  home  I'm  sure,'.'  pursued  the  doctor, 
"this  fair  weather  is  going  to  last  a  week,'  and  these 
late  rains  will  have  laid  all  the  dust.  I  am  sure  both  of 
you  will  have  a  comfortable  journey." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Margaret  was  both  surprised  and  delighted,  when  she 
reached  Clinton,  early  one  evening,  after  her  long  rail- 
road trip,  to  find  Doctor  Kean  and  Miss  Sargent,  at  the 
Clinton  depot  waiting  to  greet  her  and  her  father.  Both 
insisted  on  accompanying  her  and  Professor  McVey  out  to 
Edgewood,  where  the  door  of  the  old  home  was  opened  for 
them  by  Aunt  Deborah.  Doctor  Kean  assisted  Professor 
McVey  to  his  bedroom.  ' 

"No,  no,  we're  going  right  up  stairs,"  he  said,  when 
Miss  Bond  informed  him  that  the  professor's  chair  was 
ready  for  him,  drawn  up  before  the  fire  in  the  study.  "  I 
know  how  it  is  when  a  man  comes  home  at  night,  from  a 
long  railroad  journey.  He  wants  to  get  his  clothes  off, 
and  be  rubbed  down,  and  get  into  his  own  bed." 

Professor  McVey,  who  was  slowly  mounting  the  stairs, 
leaning  on  Doctor  Kean's  shoulder,  looked  up  with  an 
almost  boyish  roguery  in  his  face,  as  he  said: 

"  Oh,  Jack,  you  take  me  for  old  Denmark,  don't  you?" 

Doctor  Kean  broke  into  a  merry  laugh,  as  he  replied: 
"  You  remember  that,  do  you,  old  boy  ?  What  a  horse  that 
Denmark  was!  how  you  used  to  laugh  at  me,  because  I 
would  rub  his  legs  down  myself,  after  I  had  trotted  him; 
but  I  tell  you, Mac,  I  loved  that  horse." 

As  they  entered  the  professor's  bedroom  closely  fol- 
lowed by  Margaret  and  Miss  Sargent,  Doctor  Kean  said: 
"Now  we'll  just  turn  these  women  out,  and  I'll  put  you 
to  bed  myself.  Do  you  remember  how  you  used  to  sit  up 
with  me,  professor,  when  I  had  that  long  pull  of  malarial 
fever?  and  you  wouldn't  let  me  have  all  the  ice  water  I 
wanted  to  drink  ?  What  boys  we  were  then!" 
192 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


193 


Miss  Sargent  and  Margaret  went  down  stairs,  and  left 
the  two  old  friends  together.  Doctor  Kean  continued 
his  cheerful  talk,  as  he  busied  himself  about  the  sick 
man,  who  paid  little  attention  to  anything  around  him. 
"  We  were  boys  in  those  days,"  pursued  the  doctor,  "but 
that  Black  was  a  miserable  old  doctor.  My  instincts  were 
all  right;  I  knew  he  was  mismanaging  me  most  outrage- 
ously, all  through  the  fever.  Here,  old  fellow,  your 
nightshirt  is  good  and  warm,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he 
brought  the  nightshirt  he  had  been  holding  over  the  reg- 
ister, to  Professor  McVey,  who  was  sitting  on  the  side  of 
the  bed.  "  Put  your  arm  in  here ;  I  declare,  Prof,  we  won't 
have  to  give  you  much  anti-fat  for  the  next  few  months," 
said  the  doctor,  as  he  took  hold  of  his  friend's  bony  arm 
to  guide  it  into  the  sleeve.  "  Now  let's  have_these  shoes 
off.  Yes,  I  know,  Margaret  always  does  it,"  replied  Doc- 
tor Kean,  to  the  professor's  feeble  inquiry  for  Margaret, 
when  he  stooped  to  untie  the  shoes.  "  But  I  can  do  it  as 
well  as  she;  I  am  not  quite  as  slim  as  she  is,  or  as  I  used 
to  be,  but  I  can  stoop  yet,  I'm  thankful  to  say.  Now  you 
begin  to  look  right  comfortable,  McVey;  here,  just  drink 
this  warm  milk,  and  lie  down  and  I'll  cover  you  up." 

Professor  McVey  smiled  as  he  laid  his  head  upon  his 
pillow,  a  vague,  childish  smile,  and 'immediately  dropped 
to  sleep.  Doctor  Kean  stood  in  watchful  silence  over 
him  for  a  few  moments;  his  face  grew  very  sad,  the  tears 
slowly  gathered  in  his  eyes,  and  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 
Then  he  stooped  down  and  took  the  gaiters  in  his  hand, 
and,  glancing  around  the  room,  he  crossed  over  and 
opened  a  closet  door,  and  set  the  shoes  down,  and  laid 
the  gaiters  across  them;  but,  as  he  looked  down  on  them, 
he  thought  of  Margaret — they  looked  too  life-like  for  her 
to  find  there  in  a  few  days — he  took  up  the  gaiters  and 
cast  his  eyes  around  in  search  of  a  hiding  place  for  them. 

13  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake. 


194 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


After  a  moment's  scanning  of  the  capacity  of  the  closet, 
he  thrust  them  into  the  pocket  of  a  coat  that  hung  near 
by.  He  wiped  the  tears  from  his  eyes,  closed  the  closet 
door,  and  recrossing  the  room,  leaned  over  his  sick  friend, 
who  was  in  a  deep  sleep.  Fearing  that  he  was  sleeping 
too  heavily,  he  attempted  to  arouse  him,  which  was  a 
difficult  task;  but  he  persisted  in  his  efforts  until  the 
professor  was  wide  awake,  and  looked  him  full  in  the  face. 

"Are  you  awake,  McVey?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"Why,  certainly  I'm  awake,  Jack."  Doctor  Kean 
remembered  with  a  pang,  that  Professor  McVey  hadn't 
called  him  Jack,  until  this  evening,  for  forty  years. 
"What  do  you  want?  there's  no  use  in  your  advising  me 
against  it;  I  shall  go  at  all  hazards."  He  turned  his 
head  on  his  pillow,  slowly  closed  his  eyes,  and  was  going 
off  to  sleep  again.  Doctor  Kean  gently  shook  his 
shoulder,  which  again  partially  roused  him.  "Yes,  yes," 
he  muttered;  "we'll  go  by  the  Wabash,  Millicent,  to 
Florida  without  change." 

The  doctor  stood  some  time  by  the  bedside  in  deep 
reflection,  then  he  placed  his  fingers  on  Professor  McVey's 
wrist  for  a  moment,  turned,  and  left  the  room,  and 
descended  the  stairs  to  the  study  where  the  three  women 
were  sitting  around  the  fire.  Margaret  immediately  went 
to  him. 

"  How  is  papa,  doctor?"  she  asked  in  a  cheerful  voice. 

"Right  comfortable;  but  I  want  some  supper,  have  you 
all  been  to  supper?" 

"  No,  we  were  waiting  for  you,"  said  Margaret.  "Aunt 
Deb  says  the  steak  is  nearly  ruined,  so  you  take  your 
supper  now  and  I'll  sit  with  papa." 

"Yes,  you  go  up  and  sit  with  him,  little  woman,  but 
don't  speak  to  him;  he  is  sound  asleep,  and  better  not  be 
disturbed." 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


195 


As  Margaret  closed  the  door  behind  her,  Doctor  Kean 
stopped  Miss  Bond  who  was  leaving  the  room  to  order 
the  supper  on  the  table.  "  Sit  down,  if  you  please,  Miss 
Bond,"  he  said;  "  I  wish  to  say  a  word  to  you  and  Miss 
Sargent.  Professor  McVey  is  much  worse  than  I  expected 
to  find  him;  he  must  have  failed  very  rapidly  in  the  last 
twenty-four  hours.  Doctor  Mackintosh  would  never  have 
permitted  Margaret  to  have  started  on  that  long  journey 
alone  with  her  father,  had  he  been  in  his  present  con- 
dition when  he  left  Aiken.  But  in  such  cases  there  is 
frequently  a  rapid  change  in  a  short  time;  it  is  difficult 
to  tell  twelve  hours  ahead,  sometimes,  what  a  person's 
condition  may  be."  The  doctor  blew  his  nose  vigorously 
and  wiped  his  eyes.  "  McVey  may  live  a  week  or  ten 
days,  and  then  the  dear  fellow  may  pass  away  to-morrow. 
His  mind  wanders  now;  he  talks  of  going  to  Florida  by 
the  Wabash,  and  fancies  he  is  talking  to  his  wife." 

Miss  Bond  was  filled  with  dismay,  but  the  cheerful 
serenity  of  Miss  Sargent's  face  only  deepened  into  an 
expression  of  great  seriousness. 

"You  must  tell  Margaret,  Miss  Sargent.  I  can't  do  it," 
said  the  doctor. 

"How  long  do  you  think  he  may  live?"  asked  Miss 
Sargent. 

"  I  cannot  tell,  he  may  sink  away  in  the  next  twenty- 
four  hours,  and  he  may  live  a  week;  but  probably  he  will 
stay  three  or  four  days. " 

"  You  say  his  mind  is  wandering;  isn't  there  danger 
that  he  may  not  be  rational  again  ?" 

"Yes,  great  danger;  he  will  suffer  none,  but  will  sleep 
most  of  the  time,  and  drop  off  quietly — just  stop  breathing 
in  his  sleep.  Perhaps  it  is  as  well  so.  Margaret  will  be 
spared  some  pangs." 

Silence  fell  upon  the  three;  they  looked  at  each  other 


196  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

with  a  sense  of  some  mysterious  presence  in  the  house. 
After  a  little,  Miss  Sargent  said  in  a  low  tone: 

"What  do  you  think,  doctor,  of  my  not  telling  Margaret 
of  her  father's  danger  immediately?  We  are  never  ready 
to  part  with  a  friend,  no  matter  how  long  a  time  of 
preparation  we  may  have  had.  The  end  is  always  sudden, 
even  if  we  have  been  expecting  it  for  months;  and  there 
is  little  difference  in  the  suffering,  whether  the  parting 
comes  without  warning,  or  after  long  watching.  Seems 
to  me  Margaret  might  be  saved  days  of  sorrow  by  not 
knowing  that  the  end  is  near,  until  within  a  few  hours 
of  it,  especially  as  her  father  will  not  be  able  to  talk  to 
her.  If  I  tell  her  now,  she  will  have  days  of  agony;  I 
know  how  it  will  be,  she  will  not  leave  him  for  food,  or 
sleep;  but  will  hang  over  him,  watching  every  breath, 
fearing  it  may  be  the  last." 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  said  the  doctor.  "  I'm  glad  you 
thought  of  it.  Have  Margaret  take  her  food  regularly, 
and  go  to  bed  and  sleep  regularly  every  night. " 

"When  must  you  return  to  Clinton?"  asked  Miss 
Sargent. 

"  I  must  go  back  on  the  eleven  o'clock  train.  Let  me 
see,  this  is  Saturday.  I  have  an  engagement  at  ten  to- 
morrow, a  consultation,  but  I  can  come  up  on  the  noon 
train  and  stay  the  rest  of  the  day,  until  the  midnight 
train.  I'll  be  up  every  day  and  remain  as  long  as  I  can. 
It  might  be  well  to  have  Doctor  Hopkins  come  in  to- 
morrow and  see  the  professor,  so  that  if  anything  should 
happen  you  could  have  a  physician  here  in  a  few  moments. 
But  nothing  will  happen;  he  will  continue  just  as  he  is 
now,  quietly  sleeping,  to  the  end.  All  there  is  to  do  is 
to  arouse  him  sufficiently  to  take  the  milk,  and  that  liquid 
preparation.  I  hope,  for  Margaret's  sake,  that  he  will 
not  come  to  himself  enough  to  talk  in  a  wandering  way. 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  197 

You  and  Miss  Bond  are  all  that  are  needed  here,  and  then 
George  is  a  reliable  man." 

Miss  Sargent  did  not  succeed  quite  as  well  as  she 
expected  in  keeping  Margaret's  mind  free  from  a'nxiety 
regarding  her  father.  In  the  hour  that  she  sat  by  his 
bedside,  Saturday  evening,  when  Doctor  Kean  was  talking 
with  her  Aunt  Deborah,  and  Miss  Sargent  was  in  the  study 
below,  Margaret  had  observed  her  father  very  closely. 
His  deep  sleep  did  not  seem  natural  to  her;  it  was  true 
that  he  had  slept  and  dozed  a  great  deal  for  the  three 
months  past,  but  some  way  there  was  a  look  upon  his  face 
that  evening  she  had  never  seen  there  before;  it  was  not 
like  the  face  of  a  natural  sleeper,  it  was  not  as  he  had 
looked  for  the  past  week.  The  face  was  peaceful,  even 
more  than  peaceful;  there  was  on  it  an  expression  of  deep 
restfulness,  of  permanent  content.  And  yet  it  was  a 
strange  face  to  her:  not  in  its  physicallineaments,  those 
were  the  same  dear  features  of  material  molding;  but  it 
was  as  though  there  were  two  beings  in  the  one  lying  on  the. 
bed  before  her.  The  material  form,  with  its  mechanical 
breathing,  was  familiar:  but  there  was  a  spiritual  pres- 
ence looking  through  that  attenuated,  familiar  face  of 
flesh,  that  was  strange;  in  it,  back  of  it,  but  still  a  distinct 
individuality.  It  was  her  father,  and  yet  not  her  father. 
She  arose  from  the  bedside,  where  she  had  been  sitting 
with  her  eyes  immovably  fixed  upon  her  father's  face,  and 
removed  the  shield  from  the  side  of  the  shade  that  Doctor 
Kean  had  placed  there  to  intercept  the  light,  and  watching 
closely  to  see  if  the  increased  light  disturbed  him,  grad- 
ually turned  the  gas  up,  throwing  the  light  full  upon  her 
father's  face,  which  continued  in  its  perfect  repose.  Then 
she  returned  to  the  bedside  and  stood  with  hands  clasped 
in  front  of  her,  with  a  face  as  white,  but  far  from  being 
as  peaceful  as  the  dear  one  she  gazed  upon.  There  Miss 


I98  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

Sargent  found  her,  when  she  came  to  take  her  place  by  the 
bedside,  so  Margaret  could  go  to  her  supper.  Margaret 
went,  as  Miss  Sargent  desired  her  to,  without  a  demur  or 
question,  but  when  they  were  making  arrangements  for 
the  night,  and  both  Miss  Sargent  and  Miss  Bond  begged 
Margaret  to  go  to  bed  and  have  a  good  night's  sleep  after 
her  long  journey,  she  quietly  but  positively  refused. 
After  changing  her  traveling  dress  for  a  warm  wrapper 
she  had  a  lounge  brought  into  her  father's  room,  and 
taking  both  of  Miss  Sargent's  hands  in  hers,  said  to  her: 

"Aunt  Helen,  you  must  let  me  stay  here  all  of  the  time. 
I  cannot  leave  papa,  I  could  not  sleep  a  wink  out  of  this 
room.  You  know  I  have  been  his  nurse  too  long  to  be 
able  to  sleep  away  from  him.  I  can  sleep  on  this  lounge, 
and  if  you  think  it  best,  if  you  think  he  is  too  sick  for 
me  to  be  left  alone  with  him,  suppose  you  stay  here  one 
part  of  the  night,  and  Auntie  Deb  the  other." 

And  so  it  was  arranged.  "We  had  better  let  her  have 
her  own  way,"  said  Miss  Sargent  to  Miss  Bond,  as  they 
were  talking  about  it  in  the  hall.  Moist  of  the  night  Mar- 
garet sat  by  her  father's  bedside,  simply  watching  his 
quiet  slumber;  at  times  she  would  lean  down  low  over 
him  to  catch  the  meaning  of  the  muttered  words  that  died 
away  as  she  listened.  Either  Miss  Sargent  or  Miss  Bond 
sat  on  the  other  side  of  the  bed  throughout  the  night. 
Margaret  wheeled  the  lounge  into  a  position  that  enabled 
her,  as  she  rested  on  it,  to  look  directly  upon  her  father's 
face.  Here  she  would  catch  what  sleep  she  .could  from 
.time  to  time,  when  the  room  was  perfectly  quiet,  but  the 
slightest  motion  of  the  watcher  sitting  in  the  large  arm- 
chair, or  the  least  turning  of  her  father's  head  upon  his 
pillow,  or  a  whispered  mutter  from  his  lips,  brought  her 
to  her  feet  wide  awake,  and  she  would  lean  over  him  with 
a  clear  brain  and  steady  hand.  Miss  Sargent  feared  she 


RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE  i9g 

would  be  worn  out,  and  suggested  a  trained  nurse,  but 
Margaret  would  not  hear  of  it.  So  the  hours  passed  as 
they  pass  in  every  chamber  where  one  of  the  great  tran- 
sitions of  existence  is  taking  place.  The  days  and  nights 
came  and  went,  Doctor  Kean  passed  to  and  fro  between 
Clinton  and  Professor  McVey's  house;  in  the  sick  room 
up  stairs  nothing  was  said  but  what  was  necessary  to  say 
regarding  the  dying  man's  needs.  Miss  Sargent  won- 
dered what  Margaret  was  thinking  of  through  all  of  those 
hours  of  alert  attending;  she  could  form  no  idea  whether 
Margaret,  who  asked  no  questions,  was  aware  of 
her  father's  immediate  danger  or  not.  Sometimes  she 
thought  she  ought  to  speak  plainly  to  her;  and  then  she 
wished  Margaret  would  interrogate  her,  as  that  would 
make  the  communication  so  much  easier  for  her.  But 
Margaret  showed  no  disposition  to  ask  for  any  infor- 
mation until  late  Tuesday  afternoon.  That  afternoon 
she  was  crossing  the  lower  hall  with  a  glass  of  milk  in 
her  hand  that  she  was  taking  to  her  father,  just  as  the 
maid  admitted  Mrs.  Herman,  who  immediately  rushed  to 
Margaret,  and  clasped  her  in  her  arms,  regardless  of  the 
danger  of  spilling  the  milk  over  them  both. 

"You  little  darling,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  back 
again!"  she  cried.  "Edgewood  has  been  just  desolate 
without  you;  but  no  wonder,  you're  such  a  belle!  I 
declare  I've  missed  you  every  hour. "  This  assertion  of 
Margaret's  belleship  was  grotesque  enough,  as  Margaret 
had  rarely  been  in  Edgewood  society,  and  Mrs.  Herman's 
protestation  of  hourly  feeling  her  loss  was  based  on  the 
inadequate  fact  that  she  and  Margaret  for  years  had  had  the 
most  casual  acquaintance.  But  Margaret  was  too  much 
occupied  in  her  efforts  to  preserve  her'glassof  milk,  which 
she  held  at  arms'  length,  to  appreciate  the  ridiculousness 
of  this  affectionate  onslaught  upon  her  by  her  neighbor. 


200  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"  What  a  nice  time  you  must  have  had  among  the  roses 
and  oranges,"  continued  Mrs.  Herman.  "  I  told  Mr.  Her- 
man he  ought  to  take  me  down  there,  for  my  lungs  are 
not  strong.  But  how  pretty  you  look,  you  pet  you ;  you 
are  real  pretty  any  way,  and  everybody  says  so.  I  am  so 
glad  you  are  back.  We've  missed  you  dreadfully;  we'll 
have  nice  times  together  this  summer,  won't  we?  Where 
are  you  going  after  commencement  ?  Let  us  go  to  the 
same  place."  Here  she  gave  Margaret  another  hug. 
The  milk  swayed  in  the  glass,  and  Margaret's  eyes  were 
fixed  on  it  in  dread  of  its  splashing  over.  She  placed  her 
disengaged  hand  on  Mrs.  Herman's  shoulders  in  an 
attempt  to  relieve  herself,  as  she  said: 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  looking  well,  Mrs.  Herman,  and 
glad  to  be  at  home  again,  but  papa  is  quite  ill,  and  I 
must  go  to  him.  I  was  just  taking  him  this  milk." 

"O  I'm  so  sorry,"  said  Mrs.  Herman,  still  holding 
Margaret  by  one  arm,  "but  he'll  be  well  soon,  won't  he? 
I  know  he  will,  you  don't  want  to  go  to  him  just  now. 
Your  aunt  is  with  him,  isn't  she?  set  down  your  glass  of 
milk  and  come  in  the  parlor.  I  want  to  tell  you  some- 
thing, and  show  you  something — but  perhaps  you're 
going  to  Marie's  wedding.  Are  you  invited?" 

"No,"  replied  Margaret,  after  a  moment's  hesitation. 
The  past  of  four  and  five  months  ago,  came  rushing  with  a 
crash  over  the  last  eight  and  ten  weeks,  and  a  wave  of 
feeling  surged  over  her,  making  her  head  whirl,  and  her 
ears  ring.  During  that  moment  of  hesitation,  Mrs.  Her- 
man took  the  glass  from  her  hand,  and  set  it  on  a  table 
near  by,  and  placing  one  arm  around  Margaret,  drew  her 
into  the  parlor,  the  door  of  which  stood  open,  close  to 
where  they  were  standing. 

"Just  think  of  a  large  church  wedding,"  said  Mrs.  Her- 
man, "and  to-morrow  evening,  the  first  of  June,  a  real 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  201 

Jnne  wedding.  I  don't  know  what  to  wear — you  didn't 
know  anything  about  it?  But  then  you  were  away  so  long! 
I  declare  I  never  will  let  you  go  away  again.  Yes,  the 
invitations  were  out  more  than  two  weeks  ago,  don't  you 
think  they  are  pretty?  Cousin  Hattie  couldn't  help 
inviting  me  to  the  reception,  how  people  would  talk  if 
Marie  didn't  have  her  own  family  there."  Mrs.  Herman 
drew  from  her  jacket  pocket  the  invitation,  which  she 
unfolded  and  handed  to  Margaret,  who  extended  her 
hand  for  it,  as  though  she  were  in  a  dream.  As  her  eye 
rested  on  it,  she  saw  only  the  words — "  Rodger  Latimer" 
— "  Mar  re  Edwards" — "Marriage" — "June  first."  Had 
June  come?  to-morrow,  June  first?  Mrs.  Herman  rattled 
on. 

"  It's  to  be  a  splendid  affair,  everybody's  invited,  both 
to  the  church  and  reception.  I  mean  everybody  who  is 
anybody.  I  wanted  a  new  dress,  I  told  Mr.  Herman ; 
I  ought  to  have  one,  don't  you  think  I  ought?  but  my 
white  silk  is  just  as  good  as  new,  and  Mr.  Herman  said  it 
was  good  enough.  It's  a  lovely  dress,  don't  you  think 
so?  and  then  Marie  hasn't  been  any  too  attentive  to  me, 
and  I  won't  go  to  the  expense  of  a  new  dress  for  her  wed- 
ding, would  you  ?  You  ought  to  see  the  present  I  got  for 
her,  it's  just  the  loveliest  pie-knife — solid — with  an  ox- 
idized handle,  it's  too  lovely  for  anything.  I  wanted  to 
keep  it  for  myself,  but  I  couldn't  do  that.  As  a  matter  of 
course  I  had  to  give  her  something,  but  what  will  a  pie- 
knife  be  to  her,  with  all  of  Mr.  Latimer's  money?  I  ex- 
pect she'll  look  beautiful,  and  so  will  Hattie.  What  a 
grand  chance  this  will  be  for  Hat  to  spread  herself,  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  she  made  herself  look  like  a  peacock, 
and  what  airs  she  will  put  on!  It  will  be  almost  as  good 
for  her  as  being  married  again  herself;  a  great  deal  bet- 
ter! for  she  didn't  have  any  wedding  at  all,  not  near  as 


202  RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 

nice  as  mine.  I  had  a  real  pretty  wedding,  but  why 
don't  you  sit  down,  Miss  McVey,  how  tired  you  look, 
pet ;  here  sit  down  on  the  sofa  by  me  and  rest. " 

Mrs.  Herman  rose  from  the  sofa,  where  she  had  seated 
herself  when  she  entered  the  room,  and  placed  her  arm 
around  Margaret,  who  had  been  standing  all  of  the  time, 
with  her  eyes  fixed  in  a  vacant  stare  on  the  invitation 
which  she  held  in  her  hand.  She  had  not  heard  one  word 
of  Mrs.  Herman's  rattling  talk. 

"No,  no,  Mrs.  Herman,"  said  Margaret,  thoroughly 
aroused  to  her  situation,  "  I  cannot  stay  a  moment  longer; 
papa  is  really  very  ill  and  needs  me.  You  must  excuse 
me,  my  dear  Mrs.  Herman,  but  I  must  go  immediately. 
I  will  ask  my  aunt  to  come  to  you,  if  you  wish  to  see 
her." 

Margaret  placed  Mrs.  Herman's  invitation  back  in  her 
hand,  and  quickly  left  the  room.  She  took  the  glass  of 
milk  from  the  table  in  the  hall  and  passed  rapidly  up  the 
stairs.  In  going  to  her  father's  room,  she  had  to  pass 
the  chamber  Miss  Sargent  always  occupied  when  she  vis- 
ited them,  and  which  had  come  to  be  spoken  of  in  the 
house,  as  "Aunt  Helen's  room."  As  Margaret  passed  it 
now,  the  door  was  open,  and  she  saw  Miss  Sargent  sitting 
in  a  chair,  facing  the  door,  on  the  opposite  side  of  a  cen- 
ter table,  on  which  one  of  her  arms  was  resting,  as  she 
was  looking  straight  before  her,  with  an  expression  of  the 
deepest  sadness  on  her  face.  Something  in  the  expression 
arrested  Margaret's  steps,  pre-occupied  as  her  mind  was 
with  thoughts  of  Rodger  Latimer;  she  was  alarmed  by 
the  look  of  anxious  apprehension.  She  entered  the  room, 
placed  the  glass  of  milk  on  the  table,  and  stood  close  by 
Miss  Sargent,  gazing  intently  into  the  eyes  that  were 
raised  to  hers.  The  tears  gathered  in  Miss  Sargent's 
eyes,  until  they  flowed  down  her  cheeks.  Margaret's 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE  203 

heart  sank  within  her.  Kneeling  down  by  the  weeping 
woman,  she  asked : 

"What  is  it,  Aunt  Helen?  Do  you  think  papa  is 
worse  ?" 

"My  poor,  dear  darling!  how  can  you  bear  it?"  said 
Miss  Sargent,  as  she  placed  her  arms  around  Margaret, 
who  raised  her  head,  put  both  of  her  hands  against  Miss 
Sargent's  breast  and  leaned  back  so  that  she  could  look 
Miss  Sargent  in  the  face. 

"Aunt  Helen!"  she  cried,  in  a  low,  unnatural  voice,  full 
of  anguish. 

Miss  Sargent  said  nothing,  but  placed  both  of  her 
hands  over  Margaret's  that  were  on  her  breast,  with  a  lov- 
ing pressure.  After  a  moment's  silence,  Margaret  ex- 
claimed in  the  same  low-pitched,  unnatural  voice: 

"Tell  me,  it  cannot  be!  Aunt  Helen,  it  cannot  be!  is 
papa  in  danger?" 

Miss  Sargent  made  no  reply,  but  gave  a  closer  pressure 
of  the  hands  as  a  fresh  flow  of  tears  fell  from  her  eyes. 

"Tell  met  Aunt  Helen!"  cried  Margaret,  as  her  eyes 
suddenly  grew  large,  and  a  look  of  terror  came  into  her 
face.  Miss  Sargent  again  placed  her  arms  around  the 
girl,  and  drew  her  to  her  bosom,  as  she  said: 

"Oh!  my  darling!  we  shall  have  to  let  him  go — he  is 
passing  from  us. " 

"Not  now!  you  don't  mean  now!"  cried  Margaret, 
springing  to  her  feet. 

"  He  may  stay  with  us  a  day  or  two  longer,  or  he  may 
leave  us  in  the  morning,"  said  Miss  Sargent. 

Margaret  turned  and  quickly  entered  her  father's  silent 
chamber.  The  window  shades  were  down  to  keep  out 
the  afternoon  sun;  Miss  Bond  sat  by  the  bed  where  the 
dying  man  lay  so  still  and  white,  that  Margaret's  heart 
ceased  to  beat  for  an  instant,  as  she  leaned  over  him.  As 


204 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


her  eyes  become  accustomed  to  the  dim  light  of  the 
room,  and  she  gazed  intently  on  his  face,  she  could  not 
see  that  it  had  changed  since  the  last  Saturday  evening, 
when  she,  for  the  first  time,  noticed  what  she  called  an 
unnatural  look  on  it.  There  was,  perhaps,  a  look  of 
little  deeper  restfulness,  a  more  marked  absence  of  her 
father's  individual  expression,  and  a  more  marked  pres- 
ence of  a  strange  solemnity  that  struck  her  with  awe,  but 
that  was  all.  Neither  during  the  night  nor  through  all 
of  the  next  day  could  Margaret  be  persuaded  to  leave  her 
father's  bedside.  She  would  catch  a  few  moments  of  sleep 
as  she  leaned  her  head  upon  her  hand,  and  she  would 
drink  the  cup  of  beef  tea  that  Miss  Sargent  gave  her, 
but  she  only  shook  her  head  when  either  her  Aunt 
Deborah  or  Miss  Sargent  begged  her  to  lie  on  the  lounge 
which  they  had  rolled  close  to  the  bedside  for  her.  She 
sat  for  hours  holding  her  father's  hand  in  hers,  which 
never  returned  the  loving  pressure,  but  lay  motionless 
in  any  position  in  which  she  placed  it.  Doctor  Kean 
came  on  the  noon  train,  but  Margaret  did  not  notice  his 
entrance;  she  was  oblivious  of  everything  but  the  dear 
father  lying  so  still  before  her.  She  asked  no  questions, 
she  made  no  comments,  but  sat  in  silence  holding  the 
cold  hand,  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  white  face.  As 
soon  as  the  sun  went  down,  Miss  Bond  raised  the  shades 
of  the  west  windows.  The  sky  was  cloudless.  At  the 
horizon  lay  a  broad  band  of  soft  olive  hue,  that  melted 
into  a  purplish  tint  above,  that  threw  a  warm  glow  over 
the  earth  and  sky,  touching  a  few  small  clouds  that  floated 
in  the  air,  midway  toward  the  zenith,  with  a  bright, 
delicate  rose  color.  A  soft  twilight  filled  the  chamber 
where  in  perfect  silence,  the  four  friends  stood  in  the 
presence  of  mortality. 

"Speak    to    him,   Margaret,"  said    Doctor    Kean,  in    a 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE  205 

whisper.      Margaret    leaned  her  head    close  to  her  father, 
and  in  a  low  tone  called: 

"  Papa!  dear  papa!"  but  there  was  no  recognition  of  the 
voice  that  never  before  had  been,  by  him,  unheeded. 

"  Speak  louder,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  stood  by  Mar- 
garet's side. 

Margaret  elevated  her  voice  a  little.  "Dear  papa! 
Papa?"  Suddenly  the  old  look  flashed  back  in  Professor 
McVey's  face,  the  look  of  answering  affection  so  dear  to 
Margaret,  and  although  the  half  open  eyelids  were  not 
raised,  a  smile  of  perfect  recognition  parted  the  lips. 
Margaret  was  intensely  excited,  she  grasped  both  of  her 
father's  hands  in  her  own;  it  was  but  for  an  instant,  a 
gray  shadow  fell  upon  the  face,  both  the  smile  and  ex- 
pression of  answering  love  passed,  the  breath  stopped, 
and  in  holy  majesty,  like  sculptured  marble,  lay'the  head 
of  the  good  man  on  his  pillow. 

Margaret  burst  into  a  paroxysm  of  tears.  Miss  Sargent 
gently  led  her  into  her  own  room,  where  she  placed  her 
on  her  bed,  lying  down  herself  beside  her.  She  tenderly 
took  the  suffering  girl  in  her  arms,  and  held  her  close. 
Margaret  wept  in  silence.  Miss  Sargent  also  wept,  but 
as  she  wept,  her  thoughts  wandered  off  to  the  city  church, 
down  whose  aisle  at  that  hour,  a  bride  was  passing,  on 
the  arm  of  Rodger  Latimer. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  last  of  July  found  Miss  Sargent  and  Margaret 
located  in  a  hotel  on  Mackinaw  Island.  Miss  Sargent  had 
suggested  to  Margaret,  immediately  after  her  father's  fun- 
eral, that  she  and  Miss  Bond,  and  Margaret,  go  to 
Europe  for  a  year,  but  she  found  that  Margaret  was  not 
inclined  to  go  so  far  from  the  old  home.  Then  she  per- 
suaded her  to  spend  a  few  weeks  at  Mackinaw.  "  It  will 
build  you  up,  and  give  you  an  appetite,"  she  said  to  Mar- 
garet, "and  you  will  sleep  so  well,  you  cannot  help  sleep- 
ing up  there  in  that  bracing  atmosphere." 

Miss  Bond  declined  to  accompany  them,  as  she  wished 
to  renovate  the  house,  and  then  she  declared  that  she 
ought  to  go  to  New  England  and  visit  some  cousins  that 
she  had  not  seen  for  years.  Mackinaw  proved  to  be 
all  that  Miss  Sargent  had  predicted;  the  change  of  scene 
and  the  pure  air,  did  Margaret  good,  and  although  she 
gained  neither  flesh  nor  color,  the  nervous  tension  of  her 
system  relaxed,  and  she  slept  naturally.  She  could  not 
be  called  cheerful,  but  either  the  healthy  surroundings  or 
the  influence  of  Miss  Sargent's  abiding  serenity,  induced 
a  natural  quietness  of  spirit,  that  was  in  pleasing  contrast 
to  the  painful  self-repression  of  the  preceding  winter. 

After  they  had  been  there  a  week  or  more,  Miss  Sar- 
gent saw  with  pleasure,  that  Margaret  was  becoming  in- 
terested in  a  group  of  young  women,  who  had  taken  rooms 
at  the  hotel  where  they  were  stopping;  there  were  six  of 
them,  and  they  evidently  were  teachers  from  Clinton. 
They  all  were  merry,  healthy  girls,  intent  upon  getting 
the  greatest  possible  enjoyment  ou^  of  a  summer's  vacation ; 
there  was  neither  a  gloomy  one,  or  discontented  one 
206 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


207 


among  them.  Evely  morning  brought  them  together  on 
the  piazza,  in  consultation  regarding  the  plans  for  the 
day,  and  every -evening  brought  them  in  from  some  ex- 
cursion on  the  lake,  or  over  the  island,  with  arms  full  of 
ferns  and  grasses,  or  hands  full  of  stones,  picked  up  on 
the  shore.  One  morning  Margaret  was  standing  alone, 
leaning  against  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  piazza,  and  the 
young  women  were  huddled  around  a  pile  of  small  lunch- 
eon baskets,  discussing  the  best  way  of  reaching  a  certain 
point  they  were  desirous  of  visiting.  One  of  them  glanced 
from  time  to  time,  at  the  pale  girl,  dressed  in  deep  mourn- 
ing, who  was  standing  in  lonely  isolation,  not  far  from 
the  merry  group ;  then  after  a  1  ittle,  the  heads  of  the  six  were 
drawn  close  together  in  a  whispered  consultation,  which 
resulted  in  the  young  woman  who  had  first  observed  Mar- 
garet, approaching  her. 

"We  are  going  to  walk  part  way  around  the  island  to- 
day, and  take  our  luncheon  on  the  rocks,"  she  said,  "and 
we  all  would  be  delighted  to  have  you  go  with  us,  if  you 
have  no  pleasanter  plan  for  your  day." 

Margaret's  face  flushed  with  surprise,  to  be  thus  ad- 
dressed by  a  stranger,  but  her  native  good  sense,  and 
kindness  of  heart,  rightly  interpreted  the  attention,  and 
she  immediately  replied  that  she  would  be  glad  to  go.  It 
took  but  a  few  moments  for  her  to  run  up  stairs  for  her 
hat,  and  to  gain  Miss  Sargent's  consent  to  the  excursion, 
before  she  joined  the  girls,  who  were  sitting  on  the  steps 
of  the  piazza  waiting  for  her.  The  one  who  had  first 
addressed  Margaret,  rose  to  meet  her,  and  introduced 
herself  as  Jennie  Robert,  a  Kindergarten  teacher  in  Clin- 
ton. Margaret  responded  by  giving  her  name,  then  Miss 
Robert  introduced  her  to  each  of  her  friends.  They 
started  across  the  lawn,  most  of  the  girls  proceeding  in  a 
half  dancing  way,  keeping  time  to  the  strains  of  a  pop- 


208  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

ular  opera,  that  was  sang  in  a  spirited  style  by  several  of 
the  girls. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  party  returned, 
wearied  by  the  long  walk  they  had  taken,  and  Margaret 
went  immediately  to  her  room  to  lie  down,  only  stopping 
a  moment  in  Miss  Sargent's  room,  which  she  had  to 
cross  to  reach  her  own,  to  give  her  a  kiss.  After  tea,  as 
they  were  sitting  alone  in  their  room,  on  a  small  sofa  they 
had  rolled  to  the  window,  from  which  she  could  see  the 
waves  of  the  lake  touched  into  brightness  by  the  full 
moon,  Miss  Sargent  asked: 

"  Have  you  had  a  pleasant  day,  dear?" 

"Yes,  a  very  pleasant  one,"  Margaret  replied,  "those 
girls  were  a  revelation  to  me." 

"  In  what  way  ?" 

"  You  would  not  suppose,  Aunt  Helen,  that  every  one 
of  them  is  dependent  upon  herself,  and  that  they  all  have 
earned,  by  their  own  teaching,  all  the  money  they  have. 
They  buy  their  own  clothes,  and  they  pay  for  this  trip, 
which  they  are  taking,  out  of  money  they  have  earned 
this  last  year:  Miss  Hobert  told  me  so." 

"I  am  not  surprised;  I  have  met  such  people  before," 
replied  Miss  Sargent. 

"But  they  are  real  ladies,  they  are  well  bred;  did  you 
notice  how  well  dressed  they  are?  Miss  Hobert  is  pos- 
itively beautiful,  and  she  is  well  read,  but  I  think  she  is 
of  a  good  family." 

"She  looks  like  a  gentlewoman,"  said  Miss  Sargent; 
"  I  saw  her  on  the  piazza,  a  few  evenings  ago,  and  in- 
quired who  she  was.  They  are  all  fine  looking  girls;  I'm 
not  surprised"  by  what  you  say  of  them." 

>;  But  I  did  not  know,"  said  Margaret,  "  that  teachers 
in  public  schools  were  ever  such  accomplished  ladies." 

"O  yes,    they  sometimes  are, "  replied   Miss  Sargent; 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE 


209 


"there  are  different  types  and  different  classes  of  teachers; 
probably  these  young  women  have  been  drawn  together 
by  a  similarity  of  taste,  and  are  all  of  refined  natures." 

"How  happy  they  seem!"  said  Margaret.  "It  didn't 
seem  to  me  to-day,  as  I  listened  to  their  laughter  and  gay 
talk,  that  any  of  them  had  ever  had  a  sorrow  or  a  sad 
hour." 

"  They  are  out  for  a  good  time,"  said  Miss  Sargent; 
"  and  if  they  have  sorrows,  they  probably  have  the  good 
sense  to  leave  them  at  home." 

"  It  cannot  be  a  very  serious  sorrow  that  can  be  left 
behind,"  said  Margaret,  in  a  sad  voice. 

"My  darling,"  said  Miss  Sargent,  taking  one  of  Mar- 
garet's hands  in  her  own ; "  I  do  not  wonder  that  the  careless 
glee  of  those  girls  impressed  you  strongly;  you  look  upon 
life  out  of  a  world  of  which  they  probably  know  nothing,  at 
least  I  hope  they  do  not."  Miss  Sargent  was  anxious  that 
Margaret  should  talk  with  her  about  herself  and  her 
father.  While  she  respected  the  sorrow  of  the  young  girl, 
she  knew  that  her  reticence  tempted  to  a  morbid  state  of 
mind.  She  was  too  well  acquainted  with  the  depths  of 
the  human  heart  to  be  surprised  at  Margaret's  silence 
regarding  Rodger  Latimer,  but  she  had  hoped  each  day, 
since  Professor  McVey's  burial,  that  Margaret  would 
speak  of  the  one  so  dear  to  them  both,  and  that  by  the 
exchange  of  tender  memories  between  them,  her  heart 
might  find  some  relief.  Only  once  had  she  approached 
the  subject,  and  then  Margaret  had  turned  from  it.  But 
as  they  sat  together  that  evening,  when  Margaret  raised 
the  hand  that  had  clasped  hers,  and  held  it  to  her  face; 
Miss  Sargent  thought  that  she  would  try  again  to  break 
through  the  reserve  that  she  feared  might  tend  to  a  self- 
repression  and  introspection  that  would  create  an  un- 
healthy mental  condition. 

14  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake. 


2io  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"You  say  that  all  of  those  girls  are  teachers,"  resumed 
Miss  Sargent;  "may  it  not  be  that  their  occupation 
accounts  somewhat  for  'their  happiness?  I  heard  your 
dear  father  once  say,  that  he  considered  constant  employ- 
ment one  of  the  necessary  conditions  of  happiness.  How 
wise  and  just  he  always  was!  As  I  have  been  looking 
over  these  beautiful  waves  since  we  have  been  sitting 
here,  my  thoughts  have  been  of  him.  This  holy  evening, 
with  the  clear  sky,  and  few  stars,  and  bright  moon,  and 
that  far  reaching  lake,  all  seem  in  harmony  with  his 
beautiful  life  and  with  the  beautiful  world  which  I  love 
to  think  of  his  now  inhabiting."  Margaret  said  nothing, 
and  Miss  Sargent  continued:  "The  memory  of  such  a 
life  as  you  lived  with  your  father  is  a  rich  heritage,  my 
darling,  how  thankful  I  am  that  you  have  it;  and  then 
to  know  that  we  all  shall  be  together  again,  think  of  it, 
Margaret!" 

"  Do  you  really  believe  that  we  shall  all  be  together 
again  ?"  asked  Margaret. 

"Certainly  I  do.  How  could  any  one  believe  in  the 
justice  of  God,  and  not  believe  it?  Existence  would  be 
a  poor  thing  if  this  life  were  all;  it  would  be  a  cause 
without  an  effect;  a  miserable  defeat  and  failure." 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Helen!  how  I  wish  I  could  have  your  faith," 
cried  Margaret;  "but  I  cannot,  I  cannot;  it's  all  a 
horrible  tangle  to  me.  I  see  no  justice  or  love  any- 
where." 

"How  can  you  say  so,  Margaret,  when  you  think  of 
your  father's  beautiful  life  and  beautiful  death  ?" 

"And  you  call  his  death  beautiful!"  exclaimed  Mar- 
garet. "I  think  it  was  dreadful!  It  was  dreadful  to 
watch  the  separation  of  body  and  spirit.  I  tried  to 
understand  it  as  I  looked  at  him — three  days  dying!  The 
spirit  trying  to  leave  the  body,  to  get  away  from  matter. 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  2n 

As  I  sat  there  that  last  night,  I  thought  of  what  Aunt 
Deb  once  told  me  of  the  birth  of  Mrs.  Hitchcock's  babe 
— perhaps  she  ought  not  to  have  talked  to  me  of  such 
things — it  was  horrible!  A  rent  mother  and  a  screaming 
child;  that  was  the  combination  of  spirit  and  matter,  and 
there  was  my  own  dear  father  going  through  the  separation 
of  spirit  and  matter.  He  didn't  know,  couldn't  speak  to 
me,  couldn't  hear  my  voice,  and  that  you  call  a  beautiful 
death!  It's  all  dreadful  to  me;  the  earth  seemed  de- 
termined not  to  let  him  go,  and  yet  he  was  not  here. 
What  a — being  dragged  out  of  one  world  into  another! 
And  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  it  all;  neither  birth  nor 
death.  Your  God  joins  spirit  and  matter  at  a  wailing 
birth,  and  separates  them  at  a  groaning  death." 

"  Margaret!  such  talk  is  horrible!"  cried  Miss  Sargent, 
'taking  both  of  Margaret's  hands  in  hers,  "  how  can  you 
arraign  Providence  in  this  way?  why  will  you  refuse  to 
look  at  facts  in  a  reasonable,  Christian  way  ?  My  poor 
darling,  sorrow  has  blinded  your  eyes." 

"  No,  I  think  tears  have  washed  my  eyes  clear  at  last, 
so  that  now  I  am  able  to  see  facts,  and  tell  them  from 
superstitions/'  replied  Margaret  bitterly.  "What  fancies 
I  used  to  have!"  she  continued,  leaning  back  on  the  sofa, 
as  she  drew  her  hands  from  Miss  Sargent,  and  dropped 
them  into  her  own  lap,  and  gazed  out  of  the  window  into 
the  lovely  night,  without  seeing  one  of  its  glories.  "  My 
life  was  full  of  beautiful -fancies,  and  I  peopled  my  future 
with  them;  but  it's  better  to  know  the  facts,  whatever 
they  may  be,  than  to  be  cheated  by  fancies.  I  don't  pre- 
tend to  understand  why  any  one  thing  is,  as  it  is,  nor  do 
I  see  that  any  one  knows  much  more  about  the  affairs  of 
this  world  than  I  do.  Your  George  Macdonald,  of  whom 
you  think  so  much,  goes  a  great  way  round,  and  a  great 
many  ways  across,  but  I  can't  see  that  he  reaches  any 


212  RODGER   LATJMER'S   MISTAKE 

point,  excepting  that  we  don't  know,  and  we  must  trust 
God.  You  ask  how  can  any  one  believe  in  a  just  God, 
and  not  believe  in  a  beautiful  immortality?  I  don't  like 
your  logic.  At  last,  I  have  come  to  look  at  facts  steadily, 
no  matter  how  hideous  they  may  be,  but  as  I  said,  I  don't 
pretend  to  understand  them.  I  don't  see  why  that  wind 
storm  last  night,  didn't  take  some  of  the  ugly  trees  down 
there,  but  it  didn't,  all  of  them  stand  just  as  firm  as  they 
did  yesterday;  but  that  perfect  maple  that  we  were  ad- 
miring so  much,  was  torn  up  by  the  roots,  and  even  the 
branches  rent  off,  as  though  done  in  a  fury.  As  I  looked 
at  it  this  morning,  it  seemed  like  a  dying  creature,  it  lay 
there  so  broken  and  helpless,  there  was  a  sort  of  dying 
pathos  in  its  twisted  branches.  And  why  is  it,  that  one 
woman  stands  in  her  glory,  regally  crowned  by  love,  and 
happiness,  and  every  good  thing  this  world  can  give,  while 
another  is  cast  down  into  utter  darkness  and  desolation  ? 
Is  it  according  to  law,  as  scientists  say?  an  inevitable 
consequence — consequence  of  what  ?  superior  beauty, 
g*ace,  and  intellect?  or  is  it  a  reward  of  right  doing? 
obedience,  kindnesses  done  to  others?  The  'well  done'  of 
your  just  God,  spoken  positively,  and  loudly,  so  that  all 
the  world  may  hear  "and  rejoice  with  the  blest  creature? 
This  is  all  for  development,  perhaps  you  will  say;  develop 
one  by  sunshine  and  joy,  and  another  by  tears  and  suffer- 
ing? I  only  speak  of  facts,  I  haven't  any  more  theories, 
facts  have  destroyed  all  that  I  ever  had." 

Margaret  ceased  speaking,  and  Miss  Sargent  made  no 
reply;  both  gazed  silently  into  the  night.  Miss  Sargent 
knew  too  well,  that  this  was  not  the  cry  of  a  bereaved 
heart,  fora  dear  departed  one;  but  the  outcry  of  a  de- 
ceived and  outraged  heart,  for  a  living 'love,  that  was 
more  to  it  than  all  of  the  universe  beside.  She  knew  how 
great  the  anguish  must  be,  that  gave  rise  to  such  bitter 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  213 

words  as  Margaret  had  spoken,  and  she  was  startled  by 
the  subtle  reach  of  the  girl's  thought,  whose  mind  seemed 
to  have  been  brought  to  a  swift  maturity  by  suffering, 
and  she,  felt  that  it  would  be  equally  vain  to  offer  argu- 
ment or  consolation,  to  such  an  one,  so  she  sat  speechless, 
as  the  moon  passed  up  the  clear  sky,  and  the  moving 
waters  tossed  the  glancing  beams  from  one  wave  to 
another.  After  half  an  hour  had  passed  in  this  silence, 
Miss  Sargent,  who  possessed  an  unusually  sweet  contralto 
voice,  commenced  to  sing  in  a  soft  tone  the  beautiful 
lines  of  Lyle,  beginning: 

"Abide  with  me  !  Fast  falls  the  eventide 
The  darkness  deepens — Lord,  with  me  abide  ! 
When  other  helpers  fail,  and  comforts  flee, 
Help  of  the  helpless,  O  abide  with  me. " 

The  silent  night  bent  over  the  two  women,  as  the  words 
of  prayerful  entreaty,  in  a  woman's  voice,  went  up  to  the 
heavens.  As  Miss  Sargent  began  the  third  stanza,  she 
noticed  tears  glistening  on  Margaret's  eyelashes,  then 
she  placed  both  of  her  arms  around  her,  and  drew  her 
head  to  her  bosom,  and  while  she  held  her  close,  she  con- 
tinued singing  the  hymn,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  tend- 
erness. As  she  finished  the  last  line — "  In  life,  in  death, 
0  Lord  abide  with  me;"  Margaret  was  quietly  weeping, 
holding  Miss  Sargent's  hand  again,  against  her  cheek. 

The  next  morning,  Margaret  was  in  a  gentle  mood.' 
"Aunt  Helen,"  she  said  with  a  sweet  smile,  and  a  wistful 
look  in  her  blue  eye,  "  I  wish  to  talk  with  you  about 
something,  and  1  fear  you  will  not  agree  with  me." 

"  I  cannot  imagine  that  we  would  disagree  on  any  sub- 
ject of  practical  importance,  my  dear;  what  is  it?" 

"What  am  I  to  do  next  winter?"  abruptly  asked 
Margaret. 

Miss  Sargent  was  taken  by  surprise,  but  replied  in- 
stantly: "You  are  to  live  with  me  and  brother  John,  go 


214 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


in  as  much  society  as  you  choose,  read,  practice  your 
music,  perhaps  assist  me  a  little  in  my  work  for  the  Home 
of  the  Friendless,  and  the  Orphan  Asylum,  if  you  will; 
and  then  in  January,  we'll  go  to  Cuba  for  a  while." 

They  were  walking  on  the  lake  shore,  and  Margaret 
pressed  the  arm  on  which  her  hand  rested.  "  All  of  that 
is  just  like  you,  Aunt  Helen,"  she  said,  "but  it  will  not 
do,  I  cannot  live  in  Clinton.  I  can  never  go  in  society 
there,  or  anywhere  else,  and  I  cannot  live  an  idle  life,  I 
may  not  have  been  of  much  use  to  any  one  in  my  past  life 
but  I  have  always  had  some  little  responsibility,  and  have 
always  been  busy.  Now,  all  duties  and  employments 
seem  taken  out  of  my  hands;  I  have  nothing  to  do,  and 
am  utterly  useless  in  every  way.  No,  no,  let  me  go  on," 
entreated  Margaret,  as  Miss  Sargent,  with  a  deprecating 
exclamation,  placed  her  hand  on  Margaret's,  that  rested 
on  her  arm.  "  I  must  do  something,  I  cannot  live  unless 
I  do.  You  would  have  been  surprised,  to  have  heard 
those  girls  talk  yesterday  about  their  different  schools, 
and  matters  relating  to  them.  I  got  a  glimpse  into  a 
strange  and  busy  life,  it  seemed  full  of  interest  to  them, 
and  indeed,  they  seem  to  be  doing  a  great  deal  of  good. 
Miss  Hobert  is  really  a  beautiful  girl ;  she  tells  me  she 
has  a  sister  living  in  Edgewood,  a  widow,  with  one  little 
.  girl,  her  name  is  Bray — the  sister's  name, — her  husband 
was  a  dentist,  and  died  two  years  ago;  Miss  Hobert  is 
teaching  a  kindergarten,  and  Mrs.  Bray  is  going  to  teach, 
as  soon  as  she  can  get  a  situation.  She  has  just  finished 
her  course  of  study,  and  has  taught  in  a  charity  kinder- 
garten, for  a  year.  Now  I  talked  the  matter  all  over  with 
Miss  Hobert  yesterday,  and  I  would  like  to  fit  myself  for 
a  kindergarten  teacher.  I  shall  have  to  go  to  Glendale 
twice  a  week  for  instruction,  and  teach  every  morning  in 
one  of  the  charity  kindergartens,  to  obtain  a  practical 


RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  215 

knowledge  of  the  system.  I  always  liked  children;  my 
mornings  would  be  taken  up  with  teaching,  and  my  after- 
noons in  going  to  Glendale,  and  my  evenings  in  study,' 
and  in  preparing  the  work  for  the  next  day.  Miss  Hobert 
told  me  all  about  it;  she  says  there's  a  large  class  this 
year,  and  two  lovely  girls  in  it,  girls  of  refinement  and 
good  breeding — they  are  from  St.  Louis,  and  have  an 
uncle  in  Clinton,  with  whom  they  are  staying.  I  could 
go  back  and  forth  between  Clinton  and  Glendale  with 
them.  Now  what  do  you  think  of  my  plan  ?" 

"  I  can  hardly  give  an  opinion  now,  my  dear,  I  know 
too  little  about  kindergartens,  nothing  beside  the  theory. 
I  never  was  in  one  in  my  life.  The  system  is  a  good  one.  I 
have  incidentally  heard  some  talk  between  Mrs.  Black  and 
Mrs.  Whiting  regarding  their  kindergarten  association, 
but  I  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  it.  I  know  Mrs.  Black' 
thinks  the  charity  kindergartens  are  the  most  efficacious 
means  of  purifying  and  elevating  the  depraved  masses, 
and  she's  a  woman  of  good  judgment,  and  wide  experi- 
ence. But,  Margaret,  do  you  really  think  that  you  ought 
to  teach?  What  will  your  Uncle  John  say  to  such  a 
scheme?  I  fear  he  never  will  consent  to  it." 

"  There  is  no  ought  about  it,"  said  Margaret.  "  J  do 
not  pretend  that  I  am  conscientiously  moved  to  this,  it's 
not  a  charitable  scheme,  it's  a  matter  of  judgment,  purely 
selfish ;  I  feel  an  absolute  necessity  of  having  some  con- 
stant employment;  what  shall  it  be?  I  cannot  go  in 
society,  I  have  no  heart  for  it,  what  shall  I  do?" 

"Well,  I  see  no  insuperable  objection  to  your  wishes," 
said  Miss  Sargent;  "we  will  investigate  the  matter  when 
we  return." 

"  The  class  school  opens  at  Glendale,  the  first  of  Oc- 
tober," said  Margaret,  "but  Aunt  Helen,  the  charity 
kindergartens  open  somewhere  from  the  first  to  the  middle 
of  September. " 


216  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"We  can  go  home  whenever  you  choose,"  explained 
Miss  Sargent.  "  I  will  see  Mrs,  Black,  she  is  the  president 
of  a  kindergarten  association,  and  can  give  me  any  infor- 
mation that  we  may  need." 

As  Miss  Sargent  finished  speaking,  they  overtook  Miss 
Hobert,  who  was  walking  alone  on  the  beach;  Margaret 
presented  her  to  Miss  Sargent,  who  invited  her  to  join 
them  in  their  walk,  and  she  soon  left  the  two  girls  to  con- 
tinue their  ramble  together,  while  she  returned  to  the 
hotel  to  write  some  letters.  On  her  table  in  her  room, 
among  other  letters,  she  found  one  from  Rodger  Latimer, 
dated  the  previous  week  at  Cape  May.  It  was  addressed 
to  her  Clinton  residence,  and  had  been  forwarded. 

In  it  he  said: 

"*  *  *  I  have  just  heard  of  the  death  of  Professor  McVey,  and  I  was 
shocked  that  my  dear  old  friend  could  have  been  dead  two  months,  and 
I  have  known  nothing  of  it.  I  can  only  account  for  my  ignorance,  by 
the  fact,  that  at  the  time  of  his  death  I  was  traveling,  and  frequently 
missed  seeing  the  daily  paper.  I  cannot  grasp  the  fact  that  Professor 
McVey  is  gone,  that  the  peaceful  home  in  Edgewood  is  broken  up.  It 
always  seemed  some  way,  as  though  that  house  and  its  inmates  were 
outside  of  the  common  everyday  world;  it  was  a  hallowed  spot,  apart 
from  the  strife  and  heat  of  ordinary  life.  It  seems  this  morning,  as 
though  half  of  a  lifetime  had  passed  since  I  was  there,  and  it  is  really 
only  one  year.  I  knew  few  men  whose  personality  stands  out  before 
me  as  vividly  as  does  that  of  Professor  McVey.  With  all  of  his  childish 
simplicity  of  character,  he  possessed  well  denned  opinions  upon  all  mat- 
ters, and  where  any  moral  principle  was  involved,  expressed  those  opin- 
ions in  such  unequivocal  language,  that  the  halo  of  a  saint  seemed  to 
surround  him.  I  shall  always  regard  it  as  one  of  the  privileges  of  my 
life,  that  I  had  the  friendship  of  such  a  man,  and  for  years  felt  his 
benign  influence  on  my  character.  I  am  grieved  beyond  the  power  of 
words  to  express,  to  think  that  I  shall  never  see  him  again ;  I  wish  that 
I  could  have  been  near  him,  that  I  might  have  ministered  to  him  in  some 
way.  I  know  that  he  was  surrounded  by  devoted  friends  who  left  noth- 
ing undone,  that  there  was  no  place  vacant  for  me,  by  the  side  of  the 
man  who  held  my  honored  father  in  his  arms,  as  he  was  dying.  I  know 
that  I  had  forfeited  my  right  to  a  place  beside  him,  and  it  adds  to  the 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


217 


poignancy  of  my  grief  this  morning,  to  feel  that  was  so.  To  you  he  has 
been  dead  more  than  two  months,  to  me  he  died  this  morning,  and  I 
feel  that  I  cannot  have  it  so,  and  I  did  not  even  know  that  he  was  sick! 
How  could  it  have  been,  that  for  weeks  and  months,  he  was  surely 
descending  into  the  grave,  and  I  know  nothing  of  it!  I  seem  to  be 
wakening  from  a  delirium,  to  find,  that  when  I  was  not  myself,  something 
of  great  value  passed  out  of  my  life,  and  was  gone  forever.  Pardon  me, 
my  dear  Miss  Sargent,  for  what  may  seem  to  you  an  unmanly  expression 
of  grief,  but  you  cannot  know  the  shock  it  was  to  me,  to  be  suddenly 
told,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  gaiety,  that  my  friend  had  been  dead  for 
more  than  two  months.  You  and  your  brother  were  with  him  to  the 
last,  I  know;  how  they  all  loVedyou!  and  I  know  the  comfort  you  were 
to  them.  I  wish  there  was  something  that  I  might  do  for  Miss  Bond  and 
Margaret,  but  I  perfectly  understand  that  there  is  nothing.  I  know  that 
all  that  man  and  woman  can  do,  you  and  your  brother  will  do.  May  I 
ask  you  to  write  me  something  of  our  dear  friend's  illness  and  death? 
and  of  the  welfare  of  Margaret  and  her  aunt  ?  All  that  I  could  learn 
was,  that  he  gradually  failed  in  health,  through  the  three  months  pre- 
ceding the  end." 

The  letter  closed  by  saying: 

"I  suppose  we  shall  return  to  Clinton,  sometime  in  September,  or 
October." 

There  was  no  other  reference  than  this  indirect  one  to 
his  wife.  For  a  long  time,  after  she  finished  reading  the 
letter,  Miss  Sargent  was  lost  in  thought;  she  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  the  other  letters,  that  lay  on  the  table 
before  her.  After  awhile,  she  said  aloud,  as  she  placed 
the  letter  back  in  its  envelope:  "Poor  fellow,  he  always 
had  a  warm  heart,  Margaret  must  not  see  this."  And 
she  slipped  the  letter  underneath  the  letters  and  paper,  in 
her  traveling  writing  desk. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

After  Miss  Sargent  and  Margaret  returned  home  from 
Mackinaw,  Miss  Sargent  made  the  inquiries  regarding 
kindergartens  that  she  promised  she  would  and  was  ready 
to  receive  Margaret  as  she  came  into  her  room,  early  one 
morning,  on  one  of  the  last  days  of  September. 

"Are  you  not  well,  dear?"  she  asked  as  she  kissed  her, 
"you  do  not  look  very  merry  in  anticipation  of  your  new 
life." 

"I  don't  feel  at  all  merry,  this  is  a  necessity  to  me, 
Aunt  Helen,  not  a  pleasure.  Did  you  see  Mrs.  Black  ?" 

"Yes,  and  she  says  you  will  have  to  spend  two  after- 
noons in  each  week,  with  the  class  in  Glendale,  under 
the  care  of  the  principal  of  the  training  class.  I  went  to 
the  Union  Depot,  and  got  a  time  table  of  that  division 
and  your  train  does  not  reach  the  city,  from  Glendale, 
until  five  o'clock.  You  must  pass  the  night  here,  when 
you  go  out  to  Glendale,  it  will  be  too  late  for  you  to  go 
home,  at  least  when  the  days  are  shorter." 

"Oh  no,  it  will  not,"  replied  Margaret,  "George  will 
meet  me  at  the  depot,  and  I  shall  not  be  alone  at  the 
Union  Depot,  for  quite  a  number  of  girls  will  have  to 
return  to  the  city  on  that  train." 

"  You  don't  suppose  for  a  moment,  do  you,  Margaret, 
that  I  would  hear  of  your  going  alone,  from  one  depot  to 
another,  at  that  time  in  the  evening?" 

"Why  certainly  I  do,  why  not?" 

"  You  don't  know  much  about  this  city,  child,  that  depot 
is  located  in  one  of  the  worst  parts  of  the  city;  it  isn't 
safe  for  women  to  be  there  alone,  unless  in  broad  day- 
light. Either  John  or  I  will  meet  you  every  evening." 
218 


RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


219 


"Now, Aunt  Helen,  if  I  go  into. this  kindergarten,  T 
propose  doing  it  as  other  girls  do.  If  you  think  it  is  an 
unwise  thing  for  me  to  attempt,  and  are  going  to  feel 
uncomfortable  about  it,  and  feel  that  you  must  guard  me, 
and  be  with  me,  I  will  abandon  the  whole  project.  I 
could  not  permit  Uncle  John  to  feel  that  he  was  compelled 
to  meet  me  at  the  depot;  just  think  of  you,  and  Uncle 
<John,  feeling  that  you  must  come  with  your  carriage  for 
me  twice  a  week!  I  cannot  have  that,  I'll  give  the 
whole  thing  up." 

"  No,  not  yet.  I'll  be  frank  with  you  Margaret,  I  have 
a  growing  conviction  that  you  ought  not  to  undertake  it, 
but  it  is  not  a  conviction  founded  on  knowledge.  Let  us 
go  and  look  into  it  somewhat,  neither  you  nor  I  know 
anything  of  kindergartens.  Mrs.  Black  talks  eloquently 
of  taking  the  little  waifs  out  of  the  street,  ^and  snatching 
them  from  destruction — and  every  word  she  says  is  true 
— but  on  the  other  hand,  Doctor  Kean  says  that  kinder- 
garten teaching  requires  more  nervous  force  than  any 
other  kind  of  tea.ching,  and  frequently  brings  on  nervous 
exhaustion.  He  says — and  there  is  a  great  deal  of  sense 
in  it — that  only  girls  of  firm  health  should  undertake  it, 
that  it  is  no  place  for  a  young  girl  of  delicate  nervous 
organization.  But  let  us  go  on,  and  see  something  for 
ourselves.  Lee  is  at  the  door  waiting  for  us." 

Margaret  rose  to  her  feet  in  consternation.  "  You  are 
not  going  to  that  charity  school  in  your  carriage,  are  you  ?" 
she  asked. 

"Why  not?"  inquired  Miss  Sargent. 

"Pardon  me,  it  is  selfish,"  replied  Margaret,  "but  as  I 
shall  always  go  on  the  street  cars,  I  thought  we  would  go 
that  way  this  morning." 

"  Margaret !  go  up  to  900  Leek  street,  on  the  cars,  and 
walk  a  block  in  that  region!" 


220  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"Why,  I  shall  do  it  every  morning."  said  Margaret. 

"Indeed,  you'll  not!  you'll  go  every  morning  in  the 
carriage,  Lee'll  drive  you." 

""  But  Aunt  Helen — "  began  Margaret  in  a  broken  voice. 

Miss  Sargent  suddenly  changed  her  manner. 

"Well,  on  the  whole,  Margaret,"  she  said,  in  a  quiet, 
acquiescing  tone,  "  we  better  go,  as  you  say,  on  the  street 
cars;  I  have  never  been  on  them,  on  that  street,  but  can* 
find  our  way." 

The  carriage  was  ordered  back  to  the  stable,  and  Miss 
Sargent  and  Margaret  walked  four  blocks,  and  took  the 
car  on  Leek  street.  Before  the  conductor  notified  them 
that  they  had  reached  their  destination,  Margaret  began 
to  wonder  how  many  miles  they  had  traveled.  The  car 
stopped  a  short  distance  from  the  crossing.  "Can't  get 
any  nearer,"  $aid  the  conductor,  "we're  blocked  here, 
that  school's  just  around  that  corner,  four  doors  to  the 
right." 

Miss  Sargent  and  Margaret  alighted  from  the  car,  into 
the  muddy  street,  and  picked  their  way  to  the  sidewalk. 
They  were  near  the  corner  of  Leek  and  Forty-fifth  street, 
which  street  they  had  to  cross,  but  there  was  at  the  cross- 
ing of  the  two  streets,  one  of  those  tangles  of  wagons  and 
omnibuses,  that  frequently  occur  on  crowded  streets,  and 
a  policeman  was  endeavoring  to  clear  the  way.  Miss 
Sargent  and  Margaret  were  compelled  to  wait  until  a 
passage  could  be  opened,  surrounded  as  they  were,  by  a 
jostling  crowd  of  rough  and  dirty  men.  Forty-fifth  street 
was  the  direct  route  between  two  depots,  in  different 
parts  of  the  city,  and  about  thirty  German  emigrants  who 
were  passing  through  the  city,  had  reached  the  Leek  street 
crossing,  just  as  the  stoppage  occurred.  They  did  not 
understand  what  the  difficulty  was,  and  they  seemed  to 
fear  that  they  were  in  some  kind  of  danger.  There  arose 


RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE  22i 

profanity,  and  threats,  and  loud  confused  cries  on  every 
side.  A  giant  of  a  man,  not  many  steps  away,  was  partic- 
ularly excited.  He  swung  his  arms,  and  poured  out  vol- 
leys of  oaths  in  his  native  tongue.  A  lad  in  his  teens  stood 
near  him,  loaded  down  with  long  bags,  full  of  some  sort 
of  stuff.  The  boy  was  pale  and  thin,  and  his  long,  damp 
hair  clung  to  the  sides  of  his  face,  in  a  way  that  gave 
him  a  wild,  half-crazy  look.  The  giant  seemed  to  have 
some  authority  over  the  lad.  Miss  Sargent,  who  under- 
stood German  well,  told  Margaret  that  he  was  the  boy's 
father — and  he  evidently  was  displeased  with  something 
the  boy  had  done,  or  had  not  done,  and  was  vociferating 
fiercely  over  him.  The  boy  was  frightened,  and  replied 
in  pleading  tones,  but  the  wrath  of  the  man  rapidly  rose, 
and  soon  got  beyond  his  control.  He  raised  his  great 
foot,  with  its  heavy  shoe,  and  kicked  the  boy  in  the 
stomach.  The  brutal  blow  caused  the  sickly  looking  lad 
to  bend  over  nearly  double,  as  groans  of  pain  broke  from 
his  lips.  Miss  Sargent  had  fast  hold  of  Margaret's  hand, 
who,as  she  witnessed  the  cruelty  of  the  beastly  man,  turned 
deathly  white,  as  her  eyes  opened  wide  in  horror. 

"Oh!  Aunt  Helen!"  she  cried,  as  she  clutched  Miss 
Sargent's  hand,  "don't  let  him!  do  something  for  him, 
do  help  that  boy!" 

;' Be  quiet,  Margaret,"  replied  Miss  Sargent,  "  we  can 
do  nothing,  but  get  ourselves  safely  out  of  this,  if  we 
can." 

"Speak  to  the  policeman,  Aunt  Helen — see!  he  is 
going  to  strike  him"  again.  Oh!  don't  let  him!" 

The  angry  man  had  crowded  the  boy  against  a  flight  of 
rickety  old  steps  that  led  into  the  second  story  of  one  of 
the  high  brick  buildings  that  was  near,  against  which  he 
pushed  him  violently,  as  he  railed  at  him  in  a  coarse,  loud 
voice.  The  frightened,  half-starved  looking  boy,  had 


222  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

dropped  his  bags,  and  put  up  his  hands  to  shield  his  head 
from  anticipated  blows.  Margaret  turned  away,  white  to 
the  tips  of  her  lips,  Miss  Sargent  looked  around  her, 
scanning  the  buildings,  to  see  if  she  could  discover  any 
place  into  which  they  might  slip,  and  hide  themselves, 
until  the  policeman  had  succeeded  in  opening  the  way. 
But  it  was  a  vain  search.  Every  third  building  was  a 
saloon;  and  gambling  dens,  and  dance  houses  were  on 
every  side.  Right  in  front  of  her  was  a  place  called: 
"Bob's  Exchange,"  over  the  next  door  was  a  sign  that 
read:  "New  Old  Clothes,"  on  the  other  hand  was, 
"Cleveland  Pool  Rooms."  She  looked  across  the  way, 
and  her  eye  met,  "  De  Steffano's  Italian  Liquors."  As 
^he  abandoned  all  thought  of  seeking  a  refuge  in  one  of 
the  buildings,  from  the  crowding,  pushing,  swearing  mass 
about  them,  a  tap  on  a  window  close  by,  attracted  her 
attention.  She  and  Margaret  turned  simultaneously;  as 
they  looked  toward  the  window,  Miss  Sargent  threw  her 
arm  about  Margaret's  shoulders,  and  quickly  turned  her 
around,  so  as  to  prevent  her,  if  possible,  from  seeing  the 
repulsive  object  that  stood  in  a  window,  that  reached 
almost  to  the  floor.  He  was  a  middle  aged  man,  broad 
and  fat,  with  bleared  eyes,  and  red,  swollen  nose  and  lips. 
His  red  flannel  shirt  was  open,  disclosing  a  purple  throat 
and  hairy  chest.  His  trousers  came  only  half  way  up 
over  his  obese  abdomen,  around  which  they  were  fastened 
by  an  old  striped  suspender,  that  was  used  as  a  girth. 
He  paid  no  attention  to  Miss  Sargent,  but  his  eyes  were 
fixed  on  Margaret,  and  as  she  turned,  when  he  tapped  on 
the  glass,  he  leered  at  her  in  a  frightful  way.  Miss  Sar- 
gent's first  thought  was,  to  shield  Margaret  from  the 
knowledge  of  the  existence. of  such  an  animal ;  but  as  she 
looked  in  her  face,  as  she  wheeled  her  about,  she  saw  that 
it  was  an  unnecessary  precaution  on  her  part.  Girlish 


RODGER    LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  223 

purity  was  its  own  shield;  the  obscene  creature  was  to 
Margaret,  a  dirty,  ill-dressed  man,  and  nothing  more.  She 
recognized  no  danger,  sh*e  felt  no  fear.  At  that  moment, 
the  mass  commenced  to  move  across  the  street  that  had 
been  cleared  by  the  policeman,  who  stood  on  the  crossing 
swinging  his  club,  to  keep  the  horses  back,  until  the 
pedestrians  could  pass.  As  Miss  Sargent,  tightly  holding 
Margaret's  arm>  hastened  over,  there  came  into  her  mind 
some  lines  that  she  had  read  somewhere:  "A  man  with  a 
foul  mind,  might  go  through  heaven  and  think  it  vile, 
while  a  saint  would  walk  unharmed,  save  for  pity,  through 
the  nether  world."  But  as  she  looked  on  Margaret's 
delicate  face,  she  shuddered  to  think  of  the  danger  such 
a  girl  would  unconsciously  encounter,  were  she  compelled 
to  pass  alone  daily,  through  such  a  locality.  A  few  steps 
from  the  corner,  the  words:  "Charity  Kindergarten," 
painted  in  black  letters  on  a  pine  board,  that  leaned 
against  the  house,  beside  a  closed  door,  that  opened 
from  a  narrow  platform  raised  a  few  inches  above  the 
sidewalk,  indicated  that  they  had  reached  the  place  of 
their  search. 

The  upper  half  of  the  door  was  of  glass,  through  which 
as  Miss  Sargent  knocked  for  admittance,  they  were  seen 
by  a  young  woman  in  the  room,  who  immediately  opened 
the  door  for  them.  The  roon^was  about  sixty  feet  long, 
and  eighteen  or  twenty  wide.  The  ceiling  was  high,  and 
it,  as  well  as  the  walls,  was  dark  with  dirt  and  smoke. 
On  the  walls,  hung  at  intervals,  were  wreaths  woven  of 
evergreen,  and  red  and  white  paper  flowers;  between 
the  wreaths  were  placed  mottoes  in  gilt,  and  different 
colored  paper  letters,  pasted  on  pasteboard.  Some  of 
the  mottoes  were  taken  from  the  Scriptures,  and  read: 
"Love  one  another,"  "Bear  one  another's  burdens." 
The  word  "Love,"  which  was  Froebel's  universal  motto, 


224 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


was  pasted  on  the  wall  in  several  places,  surrounded  by 
chains  made  of  red  and  white  paper  links,  that  had  been 
woven  together  by  the  children*  Down  the  length  of 
the  room  were  placed  seven  low  tables  surrounded  by 
children's  chairs,  small  wooden  chairs  with  low  backs. 
There  were  ten  chairs  around  each  table.  About  one- 
half  of  the  chairs  were  occupied  by  children,  and  a  group 
of  twenty-five  or  thirty  girls  and  boys,,  from  three  to 
eight  years  of  age,  were  standing  together  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  room.  They  evidently  had  just  come  in  from 
the  street.  A  few  of  them  wore  clean  clothes,  and  had 
clean  hands  and  faces,  but  most  of  them  were  dirty  and 
ill  clad.  Two  of  the  teachers,  girls  of  twenty  or  more, 
were  moving  among  the  children  of  the  group,  and  taking 
first  one  and  then  another,  to  a  sink  in  a  corner  of  the 
room,  where  there  was  a  water  faucet,  and  a  large  tin 
wash  dish,  a  piece  of  soap,  and  several  crash  towels.  The 
hands  and  face  of  each  dirty  child  were  thoroughly 
washed,  the  hair  combed  and  brushed,  and  long  clean 
aprons,  made  of  checked  white  and  blue  gingham,  were  put 
on  the  little  girls,  and  on  some  of  the  boys,  who  seemed 
pleased  with  the  fresh  garment.  But  others  of  the  boys 
obstinately  refused  "to  be  made  girls  of,"  as  they  said, 
and  were  permitted  to  take  their  places  at  the  tables,  in 
the  ragged,  dirty  clothes  they  wore  from  home.  The 
director  of  the  school  was  a  Miss  West,  a  girl  of  twenty- 
five,  robust  and  healthy  looking.  She  had  broad  shoulders, 
a  large  waist,  coarse  black  hair,  a  round,  pleasant  face  and 
great  composure  of  manner.  There  were  five  young 
looking  girls,  and  a  pale,  large-eyed  woman,  of  thirty 
perhaps,  who  seemed  to  rank  as  teachers.  Margaret  to 
her  delight,  saw  Miss  Robert  midway  in  the  room,  and 
immediately  went  to  her.  Miss  Hobert  introduced  the 
pale  woman  to  Margaret,  as  her  sister,  Mrs.  Bray,  who 
lived  in  Edgewood. 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


225 


"  Do  you  teach  here?"  asked  Margaret  of  Miss  Robert. 

"  No,  I'm  engaged  in  a  private  kindergarten,  but  I  taught 
here  two  years  ago,  and  I'm  visiting  this  school  to-day, 
as  we  teachers  say.  I  have  come  to  spend  the  day  with 
sister;  my  school  don't  open  until  next  month."  As  one 
of  the  teachers  seated  herself  at  an  old  looking  piano, 
and  commenced  to  strike  the  chords  in  a  slow  manner, 
Miss  Robert  added:  "They're  going  to  begin  now;  let 
me  get  you  some  chairs,  I'll  come  back  after  a  little." 

As  soon  as  the  music  commenced,  the  children  seated 
themselves  around  the  tables,  each  table  being  filled  by 
those  near  the  same  age.  One,  called  the  "  baby  table," 
was  surrounded  by  little  ones  not  more  than  three  years 
old.  At  each  table  was  a  teacher.  Miss  West  seemed  to 
be  responsible  for  two  tables,  at  which  were  the  older 
children.  A  teacher  seated  herself  in  one  of  the  small 
chairs,  at  each  table,  and  they  all,  teachers  and  pupils, 
bowed  their  heads  upon  their  hands,  that  were  clasped, 
and  rested  on  the  table  before  them.  The  girl  at  the 
piano  continued  striking  the  chords,  until  all  of  the  little 
ones  were 'in  their  places,  then  she  left  the  piano,  seated 
herself  at  her  table,  and  dropped  her  head  upon  her  hands. 
When  the  room  was  perfectly  quiet,  Miss  West,  with 
bowed  head,  commenced  to  repeat  in  a  low  devotional 
tone,  in  which  she  was  joined  by  all  in  the  room,  these 
words: 

"  Now  before  we  work  to-day,  . 

We  must  not  forget  to  pray 

To  God,  who  kept  us  through  the  night, 

And  woke  us  with  the  morning  light. 

"Help  us, Lord,  to  love  Thee  more, 

Than  we  ever  loved  before, 

In  our  work,  and  in  our  play, 

Be  Thou  with  us,  through  the  day.   Amen. " 

During  the  repeating  of  this  prayer,  the  efforts  of  the 
teachers  seemed   to   be  directed    to  the  keeping  of  each 
15  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake. 


226  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

little  head  bowed  in  a  devout  attitude:  and  it  was  a  hard 
task.  Some  of  the  stupidest  looking  children  leaned  their 
foreheads  immovably  upon  their  clasped  hands,  but  most 
of  them  raised  their  heads  every  few  seconds,  to  have 
them  pushed  down  again,  by  the  hand  of  the  teacher 
placed  upon  the  top  of , the  head.  Her  hand  flew  around 
the  table  in  its  soft,  but  determined  pressure  upon  the 
uprising  heads,  she  and  the  children  all  of  the  time  re- 
peating their  morning  prayer.  The  baby  table,  naturally 
enough,  was  least  under  control.  In  spite  of  the  teacher's 
ability,  the  baby  heads  could  not  be  kept  down.  Some  of 
them  pushed  her  hand  away  from  their  heads,  when  she 
attempted  to  hold  them  still,  and  one  struck  her  in  the 
face.  Through  this  half  amusing,  and  half  pathetic  scene, 
Margaret  had  kept  herself  in  becoming  composure,  until 
one  of  the  babies  slipped  out  of  its  chair,  and  shot 
under  the  table,  and  a  boy  seated  at  an  adjoining  table, 
who  was  looking  at  her,  cried  out:  "Miss  West,  look  at 
that  kid  under  the  shelf. "  This  compelled  her  to  cover 
her  mouth  with  her  handkerchief  to  conceal  her.  laughter. 
After  these  opening  devotions,  the  children,  at  the 
several  tables,  were  given  either  sets  of  blocks,  colored 
worsted  balls,  packages  of  splints,  or  long  narrow  strips 
of  glazed,  colored  paper;  out  of  which  materials  they  were 
directed  to, build  houses,  make  fences,  and  braid,  or 
weave  mats.  They  were  questioned  as  to  the  color,  form 
and  number  of  articles  with  which  they  played,  but  to 
convey  to  the  children's  mind  the  information  which  the 
teachers  wtere  required  to  impart  in  this  way,  did  not 
seem  one-half  as  difficult  as  keeping  order  among  them. 
Miss  West  would  come,  from  time  to  time,  and  stand 
beside  Miss  Sargent  for  a  few  moments,  and  give  expla- 
nations of  their  system,  and  dilate  upon  its  benevolent 
aspects.  She  did  not  know  that  Margaret  anticipated 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  227 

joining  the  class  of  that  year,  but  supposed  that  the  ladies 
were  only  curious  visitors.  Miss  Sargent  had  said  to  Mar- 
garet, as  they  entered  the  room :  "  We  better  not  say  any- 
thing about  your  wishing  to  teach;  let  us  find  out  what 
there  is  to  be  done,  before  we  speak  of  that."  Miss  Sar- 
gent, when  talking  with  Miss  West,  dwelt  only  upon  the 
generalities  of  Frcebel's  theory,  but  when  Miss  Hobert 
sat  by  her,  she  asked  all  manner  of  questions.  All  con- 
versation had  to  be  carried  on  in  a  loud  voice,  as  the 
children  at  the  various  tables  created  a  great  deal  of 
noise.  Same  were  laughing  loudly,  and  some  talking  to 
their  mates,  and  some  calling,  "Teacher,  teacher,"  at  the 
top  of  their  voice,  and  there  was  scarcely  five  consecutive 
minutes,  in  which  some  child  did  not  scream  out,  either 
in  pain,  fright,  or  anger,  because  it  was  struck,  or  its  hair 
was  pulled  by  some  other  child.  The  teachers  were  con- 
stantly busy  walking  around  their  tables,  bending  over 
first  one  child,  then  another,  as  they  sat  in  their  little 
chairs,  soothing,  reproving,  and  instructing,  as  the  case 
might  require,  and  not  seeming  to  expect  any  very  near 
approximation  to  either  order,  or  silence. 

"Did  you  teach  in  this  room,  Miss  Hobert?"  asked 
Miss  Sargent. 

"Yes,  a  year,"  replied  Miss  Hobert. 

"  Did  you  find  it  pleasant?" 

"  No,  I  did  not,  but  I  learned  a  great  deal." 

"What  did  you  find  unpleasant  about  it?"  asked  Miss 
Sargent. 

Miss  Hobert  hesitated  a  moment,  then  replied:  "The 
personal  contact  with  these  children  is  not  pleasant;  I 
did  not  like  to  wash  them,  or  touch  their  heads." 

"But  were  you  compelled  to  do  that?"  interrogated 
Margaret. 

"Certainly  I  was;  didn't  you  see  the  teachers  washing 
them,  when  you  first  came  in  ?" 


228  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"Y-e-s, "  said  Margaret,  "but  I  did  not  suppose  that 
was  one  of  their  duties." 

"  It  has  to  be  done;  Margaret,  and  who  is  to  do  it  if  not 
the  teachers?"  asked  Miss  Sargent. 

"Certainly,"  said  Margaret;  "but  they  are  dirty,  their 
heads  must  be  dirty,"  she  continued,  turning  to  Miss 
Robert. 

"  Dirty !  they  are  absolutely  filthy,  and  some  of  them 
diseased.  Look  at  that  boy's  head,  close  to  sister;  you 
cannot  know  how  hard  this  has  been  for  her."  Miss 
Robert  looked  very  sad  as  her  eyes  rested  upon  the  pale, 
tired  face  of  her  widowed  sister,  who  was  stooping  beside 
a  boy  at  her  table  in  order  to  show  him  how  to  weave  the 
mat  he  was  working  on.  His  head  was  a  mass  of  half- 
healed  sores,  his  eyelids  were  inflamed,  and  the  corners  of 
his  mouth  were  full  of  pimples.  Margaret  began  to 
notice  the  children  individually;  hitherto  she  had  glanced 
over  them  collectively. 

"What  an  unhappy  looking  lot  of  children,"  she 
said. 

"Yes,  and  worse  than  that,"  added  Miss  Sargent.  "Such 
an  intellectually  and  morally  mutilated  lot." 

'Where  do  they  come  from?  where  do  they  live? 
whose  children  are  they?"  asked  Margaret.  "I  did  not 
know  that  there  were  any  such  children  in  this  world. " 

"  They  come  out  of  the  rooms,  above  and  back  of  the 
saloons  around  here,"  answered  Miss  Robert. 

"And  they  are  the  children  of  such  men  and  women  as 
surrounded  us  out  there  on  the  sidewalk  an  hour  ago," 
added  Miss  Sargent. 

"But  how  do  these  colored  children  get  in  here?"  asked 
Margaret. 

"  They  have  the  same  right  as  white  ones,"  replied 
Miss  Robert,  "and  really  they  are  our  brightest  and 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  229 

cleanest  children.  See  that  one  at  the  second  table;  he's 
the  most  promising  child  at  that  table. " 

"  He's  an  average  negro  child  for  any  place,"  said  Miss 
Sargent,  "but  those  white  children  are  far  from  an 
average.  He  looks  healthy,  and  is  not  deformed,  his 
eyes  are  bright  and  natural,  but  excepting  his  eyes  there's 
hardly  a  healthy  eye  at  that  table." 

"These  poor  children  all  seem  to  have  something  the 
matter  of  their  eyes,"  said  Miss  Hobert.  "  They  are 
cross-eyed  or  have  inflamed  eyes,  are  blind  in  one  eye,  or 
half  blind  in  both. " 

A  loud  yell  from  the  colored  boy  interrupted  her.  Miss 
Sargent  started,  and  Margaret  sprang  forward,  but  seeing 
that  neither  Miss  Hobert  nor  any  one  beside  herself  was 
disturbed  in  the  least,  she  resumed  her  seat. 

"Why  don't  you  punish  that  boy?"  she  asked  of  Miss 
Hobert.  "I  saw  it  all,  and  the  colored  child  did  nothing 
to  him,  but  that  young  brute  fixed  his  mean  looking  eyes 
on  him,  then  he  slowly  shook  his  fist,  as  though  weighing 
it,  and  deliberately  struck  him  on  his  back  with  all  of  his 
strength.  Why  don't  you  go  and  see  about  it?" 

"We  never  interfere  with  each  other's  tables,  Miss 
McVey ;  the  teachers  don't  like  it.  Miss  West  is  the  only 
one  who  ever  makes  a  suggestion  to  any  teacher  regarding 
one  of  her  pupils.  Each  teacher  is  responsible  for  her 
own  table.  That  is  a  dreadful  boy,  his  name's  John 
Navigator;  he's  a  brutal  fellow,  as  you  say,  and  he  don't 
seem  to  improve." 

"  He  looks  like  an  embryo  butcher,"  said  Miss  Sargent, 
as  her  eye  rested  upon  the  boy  who  had  given  the  unpro- 
voked blow.  He  had  a  large  frame,  square  shoulders, 
bony  hands  and  a  pyramidal-shaped  head,  with  a  heavy 
jaw  for  base.  His  eyes  were  small  and  deep  set  under 
his  receding  forehead.  "  He  don't  seem  to  have  any 


230  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

compunctions  of  conscience  for  what  he  has  done,"  added 
Miss  Sargent. 

"Conscience!"  exclaimed  Miss  Robert.  "I  suppose  he 
has  one  and  that  it  is  our  business  to  find  it  and  cultivate 
it,  but  he  has  been  here  over  a  year  and  has  evinced  thus 
far  nothing  but  a  stolid  brute  nature." 

"  Do  you  notice  much  improvement  in  the  children  ?". 
asked  Miss  Sargent. 

"Yes,  a  great  deal,"  replied  Miss  Robert.  'Do  you 
see  that  boy  at  the  third  table,  he  is  standing  up  now, 
with  those  trousers  made  of  light  brown  at  the  back,  and 
white  in  front?  His  name  is  Isaiah  Younger;  isn't  it  a 
queer  name?  He  was  a  perfect  imp  a  year  ago.  He 
would  lie,  swear  and  fight,  we  could  do  nothing  with  him 
for  months,  and  now  he  is  gentle  and  obedient,  and  rarely 
speaks  a  wrong  word." 

"He  looks  badly  born,"  said  Miss  Sargent.  "What  a 
missile  that  John  Navigator  will  make  in  the  hands  of 
some  anarchist  in  a  few  years,"  she  pursued,  looking  at 
John,  whose  dull  red  eyes,  as  they  were  fixed  on  the 
colored  boy  he  had  struck,  were  full  of  a  sort  of  savage 
gratification  in  the  boy's  suffering,  that  was  shown  by  his 
restrained  sobs. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  that  little  girl  sitting  off  there 
all  alone?"  asked  Margaret,  indicating  by  her  gaze,  a 
scrofulous  looking  child,  with  thin  bow  legs,  and  a  bloated 
body.  A  teacher  had  placed  the  little  girl  in  a  chair  set 
against  the  wall,  away  from  all  of  the  tables,  and  she  was 
screaming  with  wide  open  mouth,  as  the  tears  ran  down 
her  face. 

"She  has  been  naughty,"  said  Miss  Hobert,  "perhaps 
she  has  quarreled  with  the  other  children.  If  the  children 
are  not  good  we  punish  them  by  making  them  sit  by 
themselves;  in  that  way  they  learn  to  be  kind  and 
unselfish  with  their  mates." 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


231 


"Why  don't  you  make  her  stop  crying  so  loud?" 

"  Oh,  let  her  cry  it  out,  she  will  stop  herself,  when  she 
finds  it  does  no  good."  Turning  to  Miss  Sargent,  Miss 
Robert  continued:  "You  see  our  system  is  one  of  natural 
retribution.  Froebel  says:  'The  conquest  of  self-seeking 
egoism,  is  the  aim  of  education,'  I  suppose  he  means  to 
teach  the  Bible  principle,  of  love  one  another.  When 
children  learn  that  selfishness  does  not  pay,  they  are 
willing  to  do  what  love  and  justice  require." 

"It  will  be  a  long  time  before  the  world  at  large  can 
be  made  to  believe  that  selfishness  don't  pay,"  said  Miss 
Sargent. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  replied  Miss  Hobert,  "and  it  must 
be  a  long  time  before  the  class  to  which  these  children 
belong,  are  actuated  by  unselfish  motives,  and  are  ruled, 
or  rather,  rule  themselves,  by  principles  of  justice, 
acknowledging  the  rights  of  others." 

"There  you  have  it,  Miss  Hobert;  if  this  kindergarten 
system  can  instil  correct  ideas  of  individual  rights  into  the 
children  of  this  class,  and  prove  to  them  that  happiness  can 
only  come  to  them  by  respecting  these  rights;  and  train 
them  into  an  observance  of  other's  rights,  you  will 
more  than  one-half  settle  questions  that  vex  our  statesmen 
and  philanthropists." 

"  That  is  Froebel's  idea — -self-culture — not  restriction 
and  punishment,  as  much  as  self-control,  and  the  natural 
setting  back  upon  the  offender,  of  the  result  of  his  actions.  " 

"May  I  go  close  to  those  tables,  Miss  Hobert?"  asked 
Margaret. 

"Yes,  let  us  go."  The  two  girls  walked  slowly  round 
each  table,  and  Margaret  frequently  stopped  and  spoke  to 
some  child  that  turned  in  its  chair  to  stare  at  her.  A  little 
girl  with  very  watery  blue  eyes,  and  an  almost  imbecile 
expression  of  face,  laid  hold  of  her  dress  skirt.  -  Margaret 


232  RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 

reached  out  her  hand  to  pat  the  child's  hand,  but  when 
she  saw  the  half-healed  ulcers  on  the  little  hand,  a  qualm 
passed  over  her,  and  she  gently  released  her  dress  and 
passed  on.  One  child  with  large  black  eyes,  but  a  sadly 
pinched  mouth  Miss  Hobert  addressed  as  May  Rubenstine, 
and  the  little  girl  that  sat  next,  as  Becky  Rosenthal. 

"  Are  they  Jews  ?"  asked  Margaret. 

"Yes,  and  sharp  ones,"  replied  Miss  Hobert.  They 
made  a  circuit  of  all  the  tables,  and  Margaret  returned  to 
her  seat  with  such  a  languid  step,  and  face  so  full  of  sym- 
pathetic pain,  that  Miss  Sargent  was  alarmed.  Margaret's 
usually  pale  face  had  been  of  an  almost  ghastly  hue  since 
she  beheld  the  distressing  scene  between  the  German  boy 
and  his  father,  but  as  she  sat  down  in  her  chair,  when  she 
returned  from  her  walk  around  the  children's  tables,  she 
looked  sick  and  faint.  Miss  Sargent  rose,  and  looked  at 
her  watch. 

"I  think  it  is  time  to  leave,"  she  said. 

"  I  wish  you  could  stay  until  the  children  go  on  the 
circle,"  said  Miss  Hobert;  "  if  you  have  never  seen  them, 
it  might  interest  you." 

"  Let  us  stay,  Aunt  Helen,"  said  Margaret. 

"Very  well,"  replied  Miss  Sargent,  who  had  made  up 
her  mind  that  it  would  be  well  for  Margaret  to  stay  until 
she  was  satisfied  with  her  investigation,  "but  is  it  impos- 
sible to  have  a  little  fresh  air  in  this  room?  this  atmos- 
phere is  positively  foul." 

"  We  find  great  difficulty  in  having  pure  air,  with  so 
many  of  these  ill^kept  children  in  a  room.  I  will  see  if 
the  back  windows  are  open." 

As  Miss  Hobert  went  down  the  room,  her  sister, 
Mrs.  Bray,  passed  Miss  Sargent,  leading  a  crying  child 
by  the  hand.  It  was  a  nice  looking  little  girl,  and  she 
was  sobbing  as  though  her  heart  would  break. 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


233 


"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Miss  Sargent. 

"She's  crying  for  her  mother,"  replied  Mrs.  Bray. 
"She's  a  new  scholar,  and  feels  a  little  strange.  I'm 
going  to  take  her  home.  She  doesn't  belong  to  my  table, 
but  I  know  where  she  lives,  it  is  back  of  a  saloon  of  the 
lowest  kind.  Her  father  keeps  the  saloon,  and  there  is  no 
reaching  her  mother's  room,  without  going  through  the 
saloon.  It's  a  fearful  place  for  any  woman  to  enter,  but 
it  is  better  that  I  go,  than  the  young  girl  at  whose  table 
the  child  belongs."  Mrs.  Bray  passed  out  of  the  door  with 
the  child.  In  five  minutes  she  returned,  and  stopped  be- 
side Miss  Sargent's  chair  to  say: 

"  It  was  well  Miss  Nichols  did  not  take  Molly  Bloss 
home.  When  I  was  coming  back  through  the  saloon,  a  half 
.drunken  man  placed  himself  right  in  my  way,  and  asked 
me  to  drink  with  him." 

"Was  it  Miss  Nichols'  duty  to  take  the  child  home?" 
asked  Miss  Sargent. 

"Yes."  Miss  Sargent  and  Margaret  looked  into  each 
other's  eyes.  "They  usually  remain  until  we  close  at 
noon,"  continued  Mrs.  Bray,  "but  occasionally  we  have 
to  take  one  home."  She  passed  on  to  her  table,  holding 
her  hand  to  her  head  as  though  it  pained  her.  The  col- 
ored boy  spoke  to  her,  and  she  dropped  into  a  chair  by  his 
side,  to  give  him  the  assistance  that  he  needed  in  some 
paper  braiding  that  he  was  trying  to  do.  But  she  was  in- 
terrupted in  this,  and  the  employment  of  all  of  the  chil- 
dren stopped,  by  one  of  the  teachers,  a  Miss  Lane,  going 
to  the  piano,  and  playing  a  lively  march.  All  of  the 
children  in  the  room  rose,  and  marched  in  single  file  onto 
a  painted  circle  that  was  marked  out  on  the  floor  in  the 
back  part  of  the  room.  It  was  nearly  the  diameter  of  the 
width  of  the  room,  and  there  was  an  inner  circle  of  less 
diameter.  Both  circles  were  crossed,  at  right  angles,  by 


234  RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

broad  painted  bands,  that  cut  them  into  quarters.  The 
children  arranged  themselves  on  the  outer  circle,  and  to 
the  music  of  the  piano  went  through  evolutions  of  march- 
ing and  simple  calisthenic  exercises,  that  brought  into 
play  both  hands  and  feet.  They  all  joined  hands  at  one 
time,  forming  two  circles,  and  by  graceful,  rapid  move- 
ments, formed  what  they  called  a  basket  figure.  At 
another  time,  twenty  of  them  stooped  to  the  floor,  and 
hopped  about  as  birds,  and  were  fed  with  imaginary 
seed,  scattered  from  the  aprons  of  the  teachers,  who 
moved  among  them,  keeping  step  to  the  music,  with  their 
aprons  gathered  up  in  one  hand,  while  with  the  other, 
they  went  through  the  motion  of  scattering  seed  broad- 
cast. This  amusement  seemed  to  be  highly  enjoyed  by 
the  children,  who  clapped  their  hands — mostly  out  of 
time,  and  capered  around  contrary  to  all  rules.  The 
teachers  would  place  them  back  on  the  circle,  when  they 
danced  off,  and  instruct  them  to  keep  all  their  movements 
in  time  with  the  music.  The  lively  music  must  have 
been  heard  in  the  street,  for  as  the  door  was  shaken  vio- 
lently, Miss  Sargent  looked  around,  to  see  eight  or  ten 
heads  close  together  at  the  glass  in  the  door,  some  belong- 
ing to  boys  just  tall  enough  to  look  through  the 
lower  panes,  and  others  to  boys  who  must  have  been 
twelve  and  sixteen  years  old.  They  were  having  their 
own  fun  outside  of  the  door,  and  danced  upon  the  door- 
step and  knocked  their  toes  against  the  door,  while  they 
tapped  upon  the  glass  with  their  fingers,  keeping  time 
with  the  piano  with  both  feet  and  hands.  Miss  West 
glanced  toward  them,  but  paid  no  other  attention  to  their 
presence,  or  their  shaking  the  door  for  admittance.  Mar- 
garet concluded  in  her  own  mind,  that  this  outside  par- 
ticipation must  be  of  daily  occurrence,  as  it  attracted  so 
little  attention,  and  she  wondered  why  the  boys  were  not 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


235 


admitted  to  play  with  the  children  on  the  circle.  One 
little  fellow,  who  wore  very  short  trousers,  and  very 
heavy  shoes,  but  had  on  no  stockings,  went  off  and 
danced  by  himself  in  a  corner.  His  little  legs  flew  in  a 
double  shuffle,  with  such  rapid  accuracy,  that  one  could 
but  think  that  in  his  own  home  he  had  seen  dancing  of 
that  kind  well  done.  Every  few  minutes  she  would  stop, 
and  rub  first  the  back  of  one  of  his  little  legs,  then  the 
other,  with  the  upper  part  of  his  heavy  shoes,  with  a  grat- 
ified expression  of  face,  as  though  congratulating  himself 
on  his  own  proficiency.  After  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes 
of  these  varied  exercises,  the  music  changed  from  its 
lively  strains,  to  a  popular  religious  air  usually  called, 
"Jesus  loves  me,"  and  the  children,  under  the  leader- 
ship of  their  teachers,  commenced  to  march  around  the 
circle  singing: 

"Jesus  loves  me!  this  1  know, 

For  the  Bible  tells  me  so. 

Little  ones  to  Him  belong, 

They  are  weak,  but  He  is  strong. 

Yes,  Jesus  loves  me, 

Yes,  Jesus  loves  me, 

Yes,  Jesus  loves  me, 

The  Bible  tells  me  so." 

This  appeared  to  be  the  closing  of  the  circle  exercises, 
preparatory  to  marching  the  children  to  their  seats. 
While  engaged  in  the  lively  exercises  of  calisthenics  and 
games,  each  little  one's  attention  was  engrossed  by  its 
own  bodily  exercises,  but  when  they  came  to  the  monot- 
onous marching,  they  seemed  to  have  thought  and  energy  to 
devote  to  each  other,  and  all  around  the  ring,  as  they  were 
keeping  step  in  their  marching  to  the  religious  song  they 
were  singing,  two-thirds  of  the  children  began  to  tease  the 
child  in  front  of  it.  One  boy  took  hold  of  the  braids  of 
hair  hanging  from  the  head  of  a  girl  in  front  of  him  and 


236  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

twitching  them,  drove  her  as  he  would  a  horse.  A  little 
girl  caught  the  skirt  of  the  dress  of  a  still  smaller  girl  in 
front  of  her  and  drawing  it  so  tightly,  that  the  child  could 
not  step,  tripped  her  up  on  her  nose.  Wo  to  the  boy 
who  had  a  button  in  sight  on  the  back  of  his  clothes!  It 
was  seized  by  the  one  behind  him,  and  twisted  and 
twitched  until  the  thread  gave  way  and  it  came  off  of 
the  garment,  or  the  wearer  was  pulled  by  the  force 
applied,  out  of  his  place  on  the  circle.  Apron  strings  and 
suspenders  were  laid  hold  of  wherever  seen,  but  the 
loose  hair  hanging  around  the  necks  of  the  girls  was  the 
most  convenient  source  of  fun  and  torture,  and  not  many 
heads  escaped.  Big  boys  pulled  the  hair  of  big  girls, 
and  girls  of  the  same  size  laid  hold  of  each  other's  flying 
locks  with  a  playful  and  half  diabolical  fury. 

"  Seems  to  me  these  children  pull  hair  to  the  tune  of 
'Jesus  loves  me,'"  said  Margaret  to  Miss  Sargent,  as  cries 
arose  from  some  of  the  smaller  children.  Very  few 
uttered  any  complaints  if  they  were  hurt;  they  kept  it  to 
themselves  and  struggled  to  retaliate.  At  last  the  sixty 
children  were  seated  again  around  their  little  tables  and 
Margaret  expressed  the  wish  to  go  home.  Miss  West 
urged  her  to  remain  until  noon. 

"These  children  have  a  luncheon  in  about  half  an 
hour,"  she  said;  "  perhaps  it  might  interest  you  to  see 
that." 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Miss  Sargent,  as  she  glanced  at 
Margaret's  pale  face.  "  I  think  we  must  return.  May  I 
ask  you,  Miss  West,  if  all  pupils  studying  kindergarten 
are  obliged  to  teach  in  schools  similar  to  this?  Are  they 
compelled  to  do  it,  I  mean,  in  order  to  fit  themselves  as 
teachers?" 

"  Yes,  they  must  teach  for  one  year  in  some  one  of  the 
schools  under  the  direction  of  the  Froebel  Association. 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  237 

We  regard  this  as  one  of  our  best  and  pleasantest  schools. 
It  is  in  a  demoralized  .locality,  but  after  all  the  children 
compare  favorably  with  those  in  any  of  the  charity 
schools." 

"And  there  are  no  schools  in  which  girls  can  gain  what 
you  call  practical  knowledge,  excepting  these?" 

"No,  not  any  that  I  know  of.  Some  girls  teach  during 
the  morning  for  one  year,  and  some  for  two  years,  but 
they  usually  finish  the  course  in  one  year,  and  then  after 
that  they  are  paid  a  salary  if  they  take  a  position.  Now, 
there  are  more  teachers  than  positions,  although  I  teach 
in  two  schools." 

"  Is  that  possible !"  exclaimed  Miss  Sargent.  "  You  must 
have  perfect  health." 

"I  have  splendid  health,"  replied  Miss  West.  "I  did 
double  duty  the  year  I  studied,  and  now  I  teach  in  two 
kindergartens.  I  stay  here  until  half-past  twelve,  and 
then  at  two  I  have  a  school  three  miles  from  here." 

"  I  am  surprised  that  you  have  a  nerve  left  in  your 
body.  I  should  think  that  you  would  be  insane,"  said 
Miss  Sargent. 

"That  is  just  what  enables  me  to  do  it;  I  never  had  a 
nerve  in  my  body;  I  don't  know  what  nerves  are,"  said 
Miss  West,  with  a  pleasant  smile.  "I  never  lose  an 
hour's  sleep;  I  never  have  a  pain  of  any  kind;  nor  do  I 
ever  feel  tired." 

"  There  is  certainly  then,  a  beautiful  fitness  between 
you  and  your  profession,"  said  Miss  Sargent,  with  an 
answering  smile,  as  she  extended  her  hand  in  farewell. 
"This  is  a  much  needed  mission,  and  I  am  thankful  that 
it  has  so  capable  a  leader." 

Miss  Sargent  placed  Margaret  in  the  corner  of  the  Leek 
street  car,  when  they  entered  it,  and  seated  herself  be- 
tween her  and  a  rough  looking  man  who  was  holding  a 


238  RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE 

tub  of  paint  in  his  lap.  As  they  alighted,  forty  minutes 
afterward,  at  the  cross  street  that  led  near  to  Miss 
Sargent's  residence,  Margaret  said: 

"I'll  go  on  to  the  depot,  Aunt  Helen,  I  shall  be  in 
time  for  the  12:30  train."  Her  voice  plainly  indicated 
her  nervous  exhaustion  and  mental  depression. 

Miss  Sargent  took  firm  hold  of  her  hand.  "  Don't  talk 
now,  Margaret,"  she  said;  "you  must  come  home  with 
me,  so  please  don't  say  a  word,  dear." 

Margaret  walked  on,  too  tired  and  miserable  to  have  a 
preference,  or  make  a  decision.  Miss  Sargent  led  her  to 
her  own  chamber,  as  soon  as  they  entered  the  house,  and 
took  off  her  bonnet,  and  jacket,  and  dress,  with  her  own 
hands;  and  after  enveloping  her  in  one  of  her  own — much 
too  large — bedroom  gowns,  she  placed  her  on  the  bed  to 
rest.  She  leaned  down  and  kissed  the  pale,  spiritless 
face  on  the  pillow,  as  she  said: 

"You  are  tired  out,  Margaret,  that's  all;  it  has  been  a 
hard  day  for  you.  Go  to  sleep,  dear;  a  nap  and  a  cup  of 
tea  will  bring  you  out  all  right." 

"  I  don't  feel  as  though  I  should  ever  sleep  again,  those 
poor,  miserable  children  will  haunt  me  as  long  as  I  live," 
said  Margaret,  as  she  closed  her  eyes,  and  a  shiver  ran 
over  her  frame.  "What  a  dreadful  world  this  is;  I  never 
dreamed  there  was  such  misery  in  it." 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  permitted  you  to  go  there,  Mar- 
garet, I  see  it  now;  you're  not  strong  enough  for  such  a 
sudden  outlook  on  the  sufferings  of  that  class.  I  have 
seen  a  great  deal  of  them,  but  the  sight  of  those  unfor- 
tunate children  affected  me  very  much." 

"What  has  God  made  this  world  for?  It  is  dreadful!" 
said  Margaret,  opening  her  eyes  that  looked  like  those  of 
a  pursued  animal.  "  How  can  He  let  such  things  be!" 

"  Remember,  Margaret,  'WThat  I  do  thou  knowest  not 
now;  but  thou  shall  know  hereafter,'  " 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  239 

"If  He  knows  Himself,  He  knows  more  than  we  can 
even  guess  at,"  said  Margaret. 

"It  is  to  be  hoped  He  does.  No  doubt,  Margaret,  if 
we  knew  all  that  God  knows,  we  should  do  just  as  He 
does.  But,  darling,  we  will  talk  it  all  over  after  you 
have  had  a  nap  and  something  to  eat;  you  must  have  the 
nap  first  to  quiet  your  nerves. "  While  Miss  Sargent  was 
talking  she  had  drawn  down  the  window  shades  and  had 
wet  the  end  of  a  towel  and  laid  it  on  Margaret's  forehead 
and  eyes.  "Now  I  will  lie  on  the  lounge  here,"  she 
said,  "where  I  always  take  my  noon  nap,  and  let  us  both 
go  to  sleep  for  an  hour." 

Margaret  felt  very  sure  that  she  could  not  go  to  sleep, 
but  in  less  than  fifteen  minutes  the  hot  eyes  were  closed 
in  slumber,  and  the  excited  pulse  was  falling  to  its  normal 
pace. 

An  hour  and  a  half  afterward,  Margaret  was  sitting  in 
a  large  chair,  still  wrapped  in  Miss  Sargent's  gown,  that 
crossed  over  her  breast  from  shoulder  to  shoulder,  and  had 
the  sleeves  turned  up  half  way  to  the  elbow.  The  chair 
was  drawn  close  to  a  table  on  which  Miss  Sargent  had 
ordered  luncheon  served. 

"It  sounds  selfish,  Aunt  Helen,"  said  Margaret,  "but 
if  Uncle  John  was  at  home  we  couldn't  have  this  cosy 
luncheon  up  stairs  here  in  your  room." 

"He's  having  a  good  time  somewhere,"  replied  Miss 
Sargent. 

"  Don't  this  seem  like  heaven?"  said  Margaret,  looking 
around  the  room,  as  she  held  the  leg  of  a  broiled  bird 
between  her  thumb  and  finger.  "  How  pretty  your  curtains 
are!  and  your  pictures  never  looked  so  beautiful.  What  a 
horrid  old  room  that  was!  Just  smell  this  tea!  Aunt 
Helen,"  exclaimed  Margaret,  as  she  held  her  face  over 
the  steaming  cup,  "this  is  my  second  cup,  and  I  shall 
want  another,  I  know." 


240  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"Well,  it  is  here,  darling,"  replied  Miss  Sargent,  as 
she  took  the  lid  off  of  the  little  teapot  that  was  over  a 
spirit-lamp  in  front  of  her,  and  stirred  the  leaves  with  a 
teaspoon.  She  was  delighted  to  see  Margaret  looking 
even  one-half  cheerful  again.  She  could  hardly  keep 
her  eyes  off  of  the  wan  face  opposite  to  her,  or  the  tears 
from  her  eyes  as  she  gazed  on  it. 

"  I  must  go  home  on  the  four  o'clock  train,"  said  Mar- 
garet. "Auntie  Deb  will  wonder  what  has  become  of  me." 

"I  telegraphed  her  that  you  were  here,  and  would  like 
to  have  George  meet  you  at  the  5 130  train ;  was  that 
right,  dear?" 

"Perfectly;  how  thoughtful  you  are  of  everybody, 
Aunt  Helen;  if  I  wasn't  tangled  up  so,  in  this  big  gown 
of  yours,  I'd  go  round  there  and  hug  you,"  said  Mar- 
garet, with  a  smile  on  her  thin  face,  that  Miss  Sargent 
thought  made  her  look  even  more  pitiful  than  tears. 

"No  matter,  dear,  I'll  take  the  hug  on  faith,  until  you 
have  finished  your  tea."  And  she  smiled,  with  such  a 
world  of  love  in  her  benign  face,  that  Margaret  exclaimed : 

"  I  declare,  Aunt  Helen,  you  are  a  handsome  woman ! 
I  wish  you  would  go  to  the  glass  and  look  at  yourself." 

Miss  Sargent  laughed  aloud.  "It  almost  paid  us," 
she  said,  "to  go  to  that  Leek  street  kindergarten,  we  en- 
joy so  much  more  the  pretty  things  in  our  own  home, 
after  seeing  that  unlovely  room;  you  must  have  had  Miss 
Lane  in  your  mind's  eye  just  now,  as  you  were  looking 
at  me."  It  was  an  unfortunate  speech,  Miss  Sargent  in- 
stantly saw;  a  shadow  fell  upon  Margaret's  face,  which 
she  could  not  drive  off,  turn  the  conversation  any  way 
she  would,  Margaret  was  evidently  pre-occupied  with  sad 
thoughts. 

"There's  no  use  dodging  the  point,  Aunt  Helen,"  she 
said  after  a  little,  "I  cannot  teach  in  that  kindergarten." 


RODGER    LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 


241 


"As  a  matter  of  course  you  can't;  it  would  be  mad- 
ness to  think  of  it,  it  would  kill  you." 

"  I  am  so  sorry  for  those  teachers,"  said  Margaret. 

"I  don't  know  why  you  should  say  that,"  rejoined 
Miss  Sargent.  "Mrs.  Bray  is  certainly  an  unhappy  looking 
woman,  those  other  teachers  looked  well  and  happy." 

"  Miss  West  did,  I'm  sure,"  said  Margaret. 

"She  must  be  a  very  strong  girl,"  added  Miss  Sargent, 
"  but  you  and  she  resemble  each  other,  about  as  much  as 
brother  John  resembles  a  pugilist.  I  wish  this  world  had 
more  like  her.  Such  physically  strong  people,  of  tough 
mental  fiber,  are  specially  adapted  to  do  such  work.  Their 
surroundings  don't  seem  to  make  them  uncomfortable. 
Give  such  people  plenty  to  eat,  warmth,  and  time  to 
sleep,  and  they  will  have  an  even  sort  of  happiness,  put 
them  wherever  you  will." 

"What  a  pity,"  said  Margaret,  "that  every  girl  who 
lives  isn't  of  that  organization." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  replied  Miss  Sargent.  "When  I 
look  into  the  heart  of  an  ascension  lily,  and  my  soul  fol- 
lows its  leading,  out  beyond  bread,  and  shelter,  and  fuel, 
into  a  world  as  real  as  this  material  one,  but  where 
there  are  no  material  needs,  I  feel  that  the  lily  has  as 
true  a  practical  use,  as  has  a  peck  of  corn.  I  have  a 
great  respect  for  these  strong,  practical  people,  made  of 
serviceable  clay;  but  in  this  practical  age,  and  time  of 
great  need  for  such  people,  don't  let  us  forget  that  it  was 
God  himself  that  made  other  types,  and  that  He  has 
use  for  them.  That  charity  kindergarten  work  is  a  pecul- 
iarly trying  work,  and  it  will  probably  be  done  by  two 
classes  of  workers.  One  is  a  class  of  saints,  that  in 
hoars  of  solitary  prayer  and  reflection,  learn  lessons  of 
self-renunciation  and  fortitude,  that  enable  them  to  de- 
vote themselves  to  the  service  of  others,  regardless  of 

16  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake. 


242 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


circumstances  or  surroundings — and  there  is  a  larger 
number  of  these  saints,  both  men  and  women,  than  is  gen- 
erally known — but  the  most  of  this  kindergarten  work 
will  be  done  by  young  women  who  are  dependent  upon 
themselves,  and  who  choose  it  as  a  means  of  earning 
their  bread.  The  majority  of  these  will  find  it  pleasant 
enough  employment,  because  their  early  surroundings  were 
not  such  as  to  cultivate  delicate  tastes;  but  many  of  these 
will  make  it  only  a  stepping  stone  to  something  that  pays 
better,  or  something  they  like  better.  Mrs.  Black  tells 
me  that  many  of  their  kindergarten  teachers  are  leaving 
them,  and  going  into  the  public  schools  as  teachers. "  Miss 
Sargent  was  silent  for  a, moment,  but  as  Margaret  said 
nothing,  she  continued :  "I  must  say  that  I  share  Mrs. 
Black's  enthusiasm  regarding  kindergartens;  there  ought 
to  be  one  in  connection  with  each  of  our  public  schools. 
Any  one  who  has  seen  as  much  as  i  have  of  adult  crim- 
inals, in  prisons  and  Magdalen  asylums,  can  have  but 
little  faith  in  the  reformation  of  depraved  men  and  women, 
those  who  have  fixed  habits  of  crime.  We  are  soon 
brought  to  see  that  our  only  hope  is  in  getting  hold  of  the 
children,  and  training  them  into  a  better  life.  But  Mar- 
garet, you  can  do  nothing  in  kindergarten  teaching,  you 
haven't  the  health,  you  could  not  endure  the  going  to 
Glendale  for  instruction,  and  teaching  in  the  city  school, 
one  week.  And  your  teaching  in  such  a  place  as  we  were 
in  this  morning,  is  not  to  be  thought  of." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Margaret,  looking  gloomily  out  of 
the  window.  "  I  wonder  what  I  am  to  do  for  the  next  ten 
years. " 

"  Do  not  try  and  settle  your  life  ten  years  ahead,  dar- 
ling, you  never  have  had  an  idle  day  yet;  something  will 
come  to  you,  demanding  your  attention,  that  will  be  in 
harmony  with  both  your  judgment  and  taste,  and  will  not 
injure  your  health;  have  patience,  dear."  - 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

On  entering  the  car  of  the  suburban  train,  a  little  after 
five  o'clock,  Margaret's  eye  fell  upon  Mrs.  Bray,  who  was 
sitting  with  her  head  leaning  against  the  car  window, 
with  her  eyes  closed  as  though  in  weariness.  Margaret 
took  a  seat  across  the  aisle,  a  little  back  of  her.  When 
half  way  to  Edgewood,  she  observed  that  Mrs.  Bray  drew 
her  black  veil  over  her  face,  and  she  could  see  that  be- 
hind it  she  was  wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes.  Im- 
mediately her  sympathies  went  out  toward  the  sorrowing 
woman.  As  they  alighted  from  the  car,  she  went  to  Mrs. 
Bray,  and  invited  her  to  take  a  seat  in  her  carriage. 

"  Let  me  take  you  home,  please,"  she  said,  "  I  have  two 
seats,  you  must  be  tired,  after  standing  on  your  feet  in 
that  school  all  of  the  morning." 

Mrs.  Bray  was  touched  by  the  kind  attention.  "Thank 
you,  I  am  tired,"  she  replied,  and  gladly  accepted  a  seat 
beside  Margaret,  on  the  back  seat  of  the  phaeton.  Mar- 
garet found  that  Mrs.  Bray  lived  only  four  blocks  from 
her  own  home.  She  felt  that  Mrs.  Bray  was  in  trouble, 
and  while  she  kept  up  a  running  talk  on  commonplace 
subjects,  she  was  wondering  what  the  matter  could  be, 
and  was  resolving  in  her  own  mind  ways  of  finding  out, 
so  that  she  might  be  of  use  to  her.  When  they  reached 
the  house  where  Mrs.  Bray  said  she  had  rooms,  Margaret 
alighted,  and  insisted  on  carrying  a  parcel  that  Mrs. 
Bray  had  brought  from  the  city,  to  the  door  for  her,  in 
order  to  prolong  her  stay  with  her,  hoping  each  moment 
that  something  would  happen  that  would  disclose  to  her  a 
way  of  serving  the  distressed  woman.  Mrs.  Bray  politely 
opened  the  gate  for  Margaret  to  pass  through,  without 

243 


244  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

saying  a  word.  Margaret  thought  she  seemed  afraid  to 
trust  her  voice  to  speak.  They  had  taken  but  a  few  steps 
on  the  board  walk  that  led  to  the  house,  when  the  front 
door  opened,  and  a  little  girl  came  bounding  down  the 
walk,  and  threw  her  arms  around  Mrs.  Bray's  neck,  who 
stooped  to  take  the  child  in  her  arms.  She  was  a  pretty, 
delicate  looking  girl,  apparently  about  six  years  old,  with 
soft  brown  eyes  and  a  heavy,  straight  bang  of  brown  hair. 
She  was  tastily  dressed,  and  wore  fine  stockings  and 
shoes.  The  mother  and  child  embraced  and  kissed  each 
other  in  the  most  affectionate  manner. 

"This  is  my  little  Eloise,  Miss- McVey,"  said  Mrs. 
Bray,  as  she  rose  to  her  feet. 

Margaret  stooped  to  the  ground,  and  placed  her  arm 
around  the  child,  whom  she  kissed  repeatedly.  Little 
Eloise  immediately  made  friends  with  her,  and  rested  her 
arm  on  Margaret's  shoulder,  as  she  retained  her  stooping 
posture. 

"  Is  that  your  horse?"  she  asked,  pointing  to  Margaret's 
horse.  "Yes,  dear;  would  you  like  to  take  a  drive?" 
said  Margaret. 

"Yes!  yes!"  exclaimed  Eloise;  she  ran  to  her  mother 
crying,  "May  I  mamma?  Oh!  please  let  me!  the  lady 
asked  me,  and  I  didn't  say  a  word  to  her  about  it  first; 
please  let  me!" 

"  Do  let  her  go,  Mrs.  Bray ;  the  horse  is  gentle,  and  my 
man  is  perfectly  reliable,  we  have  had  him  five  years. 
Would  you  feel  safe  to  let  her  go  alone  with  George,  so 
that  you  could  give  me  half  an  hour  of  your  time?  I 
know  that  I'm  asking  a  great  deal,  especially  as  you  are 
so  tired,  but  I  need  some  information  very  much  that  I 
think  you  can  give  me,  and  we  could  have  a  talk  while 
this  little  maiden  is  having  an  airing." 

Mrs.   Bray  could    not   deny   the  eager  child   the  rare 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  245 

pleasure  of  a  drive,  and  she  invited  Margaret  to  her  room, 
which  was  a  lower  front  one,  opening  from  the  hall. 
Eloise  was  soon  arrayed  in  hat  and  jacket,  and  both  Mar- 
garet and  Mrs.  Bray  walked  down  to  the  carriage  to  see 
her  off. 

"  Here,  George,  is  a  little  girl  you  are  to  take  good 
care  of,  and  give  a  nice  drive,"  said  Margaret;  "you  must 
go  where  she  says,  and  watch  her  closely,  that  she  don't 
fall  out." 

'  Margaret  placed  Eloise  on  the  front  seat  beside  George, 
who  moved  along  so  that  she  could  sit  very  near  the  mid- 
dle of  the  seat.  He  smiled  good-naturedly  as  he  placed 
the  lap-robe  across  her,  tucking  it  in  tightly  underneath 
her;  then  he  offered  her  the  ends  of  the  long  lines  that 
were  buckled  together,  as  he  said:  "  Would  the  little  lady 
like  to  drive?"  Eloise  took  the  lines  in  both  hands,  and 
turned  with  a  delighted  face  to  her  mother,  as  she  ex- 
claimed r 

"Oh!  mamma,  mamma!  I'm  going  to  drive  the  horse!" 

Margaret  stepped  close  to  the  carriage,  and  said  in  a 
low  voice  to  George:  "Go  to  Sanders'  and  bring  rne, 
when  you  come  back,  a  basket  of  his  best  grapes — two 
baskets,  one  of  Concords,  and  one  of  Catawbas.  Be  out 
about  half  or  three-quarters  of  an  hour." 

As  Margaret  re-entered  Mrs.  Bray's  room  she  was  pain- 
fully struck  by  its  air  of  poverty,  which  was  out  of  keep- 
ing with  both  Mrs.  Bray's  and  her  daughter's  appearance 
and  manner.  A  creton  curtain  partitioned  off  one  corner 
of  the  room,  behind  which  was  a  bed.  A  small  coal  oil 
stove  stood  on  a  box  that  had  a  newspaper  pinned  around 
it.  A  small  table  covered  with  a  flowered  red  and  white 
cotton  cloth,  three  wooden  chairs  and  a  small  rocking- 
chair,  completed  the  furnishing  of  the  room.  Mrs.  Bray 
offered  the  rocking-chair  to  Margaret,  and  she  seated  her- 


246  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

self  at  the  end  of  the  table  on  which  she  rested  her  elbow 
as  she  supported  her  head  upon  her  hand.  She  was  pale 
and  looked  physically  exhausted,  but  the  look  of  physical 
weariness  was  overshadowed  by  an  expression  of  mental 
pain,  a  look  of  anxious  fear  that  was  in  her  face.  Mar- 
garet's heart  was  full  of  sympathy,  but  Mrs.  Bray's  man- 
ner of  gentle  dignity  forbade  any  familiar  approach  to 
personal  matters.  With  delicate  tact,  Margaret  im- 
mediately opened  the  conversation  by  speaking  of  her- 
self. 

"You  are  very  kind,  Mrs.  Bray,"  she  said,  "  in  permit- 
ting me  to  take  your  time,  but  I  feel  that  you  are  pos- 
sessed of  knowledge  that  may  be  of  great  value  in  assist- 
ing me  in  making  an  important  decision,  but  perhaps  you 
are  too  weary  to-night, — shall  I  defer  my  questions  until 
some  other  time? — shall  I  call  and  see  you  to-morrow?" 

"O  no,  I'm  not  too  tired  to  talk  with  you, — I  shall  be 
very  glad  to  give  you  any  information  I  may  possess,  but 
I  can't  imagine  what  it  is  I  know  that  can  be  of  any  value 
to  you." 

"It's  about  this  kindergarten  teaching,"  said  Mar- 
garet. 

"Kindergarten  teaching!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bray. 

"Yes;  that  was  the  reason  of  my  being  at  your  school 
this  morning,"  said  Margaret.  "I  wished  to  see  what 
there  was  in  it;  I  wish  to  teach.  My  aunt  had  seen  Mrs. 
Black  about  my  going  to  Glendale  to  join  the  class 
there." 

Mrs.  Bray  raised  her  head  with  an  expression  of  great 
surprise  on  her  face.  "Do  I  understand  you,  Miss 
McVey,"  she  said,  "  that  you  wish  to  teach  in  a  kinder- 
garten? you,  yourself?" 

"Yes,  that  was  my  thought  when  I  went  to  your  kinder- 
garten this  morning,"  answered  Margaret. 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


247 


"  But — pardon  me,  I  thought — I  understood  my  sister 
to  say — you  wish  to  teach  ?  Excuse  me,  but  why  do  you 
think  of  it?" 

"Why?"  repeated  Margaret  in  a  sad  tone,  as  she  looked 
at  Mrs.  Bray,  with  eyes  fast  filling  with  tears.  Mrs. 
Bray's  pale  face  flushed  as  she  hastened  to  say: 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  McVey,  but  I  could  not 
imagine  any  such  necessity. " 

Margaret  was  as  tired  as  Mrs.  Bray.  She  was  tremb- 
ling from  nervous  exhaustion.  "Necessity!"  she  ex- 
claimed, repeating  Mrs.  Bray's  words.  The  dire  neces- 
sity of  something  in  her  life  so  smote  upon  her  that  the 
gathering  tears  were  forced  from  her  eyes  by  the  pain  that 
crowded  her  heart.  Mrs.  Bray  was  shocked  by  what  she 
thought  was  the  result  of  her  rude  question. 

"My  dear  Miss  McVey, "  she  said,  leaning  toward  Mar- 
garet, "  forgive  me.  I  must  have  misunderstood;  I  have 
pained  you, — how  can  I  be  of  use  to  you?  If  you  think 
of  studying  kindergarten,  let  me  beg  of  you  not  to  do 
it.  It  won't  pay  you;  it  is  very  hard,  very  trying  work, 
and — "  Mrs.  Bray  stopped  abruptly,  shut  her  lips  tightly 
together,  and  clasped  her  hands  rigidly  in  her  lap. 

"And  what?     Mrs.  Bray,  please  tell  me   all  about    it." 

"All  about  it!"  repeated  Mrs.  Bray,  covering  "her  face 
with  both  hands,  which  she  rested  on  the  table  before  her. 
The  tired  woman  broke  entirely  down  and  sobbed  like  a 
child.  It  was  as  though  along  continued  self-control  had 
at  last  given  way,  and  she  was  powerless  to  repress 
either  her  tears  or  sobs.  For  a  few  minutes  Margaret  sat 
perfectly  still ;  she  offered  no  consolation,  she  spoke  no 
word  of  sympathy.  Then  as  the  first  convulsive  outburst 
of  grief  subsided,  she  drew  her  chair  close  to  the  side  of 
the  table,  and  reaching  out  her  hand,  laid  it  gently  on 
Mrs.  Bray's  shoulders,  as  she  said: 


248  > RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"  These  necessities  of  life  are  terrible  things,  my  dear 
Mrs.  Bray ;  perhaps  you  and  I  might  be  of  some  help  and 
comfort  to  each  other,  if  we  only  knew  it."  As  her  sweet 
voice  fell  upon  Mrs.  Bray's  ear,  it  was  like  healing  balm 
to  her  heart.  She  did  not  analyze  the  tone,  she  could  not 
have  done  so,  had  she  been  aware  that  there  was  any 
peculiar  compound  to  analyze.  She  only  felt  the  influence 
of  a  spirit  that  was  full  of  a  gentle  sympathy  born  of  a 
sorrow  of  its  own,  and  a  cheerful  helpfulness  inherent  in 
a  character  much  stronger,  and  more  self-reliant  than  her 
own.  Margaret  said  no  more,  but  quietly  waited  for  the 
confidence  that  she  felt  sure  would  come;  waited  with 
her  hand  resting  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  weeping  woman. 
After  a  little  Mrs.  Bray's  sobs  ceased,  and  then  she  raised 
her  face  from  her  hands,  and  pushed  her  disordered  hair 
back  from  her  forehead;  she  looked  straight  at  Margaret 
with  her  red  eyes  and  swollen  lids,  but  said  nothing. 

"If  you  could,  dear  Mrs.  Bray,  tell  me  all  about  your 
kindergarten  experience,"  said  Margaret,  "  it  might  be  of 
great  use  to  me,  and  perhaps — perhaps  we  might  be  of 
help  to  each  other." 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  should  not  tell  you  all  about  it," 
said  Mrs.  Bray,  as  she  began  to  cry  again,  the  tears  roll- 
ing down  her  cheeks  as  fast  as  she  wiped  them  off.  "  You 
must  excuse  this  weakness."  she  continued,  "I  am  not 
always  so  childish,  "but  to-day  I'm  thoroughly  worn  out, 
and  thoroughly  discouraged.  Whatever  else  you  attempt 
don't  go  into  kindergarten  teaching,  I  beg  of  you,  Miss 
McVey.  To  think  how  hard  I  have  worked  for  the  last 
year — I  have  gone  through  everything — and  this  is  the 
result.  But  you  don't  know  what  I  mean.  In  telling 
you  about  my  kindergarten  teaching,  I  must  tell  you 
something  of  myself.  I  never  expected  to  teach  at  all — 
oh!  Miss  McVey,  I  had  such  a  pretty  home  when  my 


RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 


249 


husband  was  alive.  He  was  a  dentist,  and  growing  into 
a  good  practice,  but  two  years  ago  he  died,  he  was  sick 
only  a  few  weeks,  not  dangerously  sick  for  more  than 
three  days."  Mrs.  Bray  placed  one  hand  across  her  eyes 
for  a  moment,  then  continued,  "  When  the  business  was 
settled,  I  had  nothing  but  the  household  furniture.  We 
had  paid  something  on  our  home,  but  I  lost  it,  the  title 
was  not  good,  you  can't  understand  about  business.  I  don't 
know  much  about  it,  but  there  were  some  debts,  and  I 
sold  the  good  will  of  the  office,  and  when  all  was  settled, 
there  was  no  money  left.  Mr.  Bray  had  his  life  insured 
as  soon  as  Eloise  was  born,  but  he  forgot  to  pay,  and 
that  ran  out  six  months  before  he  died,  so  I  lost  that.  I 
had  not  a  single  friend  or  relative  that  could  assist  me, 
and  I  was  left  with  Eloise  and  our  household  furniture, 
and  not  twenty  dollars  in  the  world.  I  had  to  do  some- 
thing for  our  support,  and  was  advised  by  my  sister  and 
several  friends,  to  fit  myself  for  a  kindergarten  teacher. 
So  I  had  an  auction,  and  sold  the  furniture — it  was  dread- 
ful to  see  at  what  prices  the  articles  went — I  kept  enough 
to  furnish  two  rooms  for  Eloise  and  myself,  but  most  of 
that  had  to  go,  piece  by  piece,  to  pay  my  grocery  bill, 
and  we  came  here  to  live  in  this  one  room."  Mrs.-  Bray 
had  ceased  weeping,  and  talked  as  though  it  was  a  relief 
to  give  utterance  to  her  sorrow.  "  I  was  as  careful  as  I 
could  be,"  she  continued,  "but  my  fare  into  the  city,  and 
out  to  Glendale,  and  then  a  few  books  that  I  had  to  have 
and  some  material,  all  counted  up,  and  I  was  frightened 
to  see  how  fast  the  money  went.  I  worked  very  hard  all 
last  year,  and  endured  all  kinds  of  exposure;  last  winter 
I  waded  through  the  snow  to  the  depot,  to  catch  the  early 
train,  just  plunging  through  drifts,  and  had  wet  feet  and 
damp  clothes  all  day,  and  several  days  I  taught  in  that 
schoolroom  with  our  thermometer  at  forty.  I  kept  my 


250  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

cloak  and  overshoes  on  all  of  the  morning,  but  I  took 
dreadful  colds,  really  I  was  hardly  free  from  a  cold  all 
last  winter.  The  days  that  I  went  to  Glendale  I  had  to 
ride,  in  the  four  trips,  two  from  here  to  the  city,  and  then 
out  to  Glendale  and  back;  forty-eight  miles  on  the  cars, 
and  walk  about  four  miles,  leaving  home  at  seven  in  the 
morning,  and  getting  back  at  six  in  the  evening,  and 
frequently,  during  the  spring,  wet  to  my  skin  by  the  rain; 
I  had  overshoes,  and  rubber  leggins,  and  a  waterproof, 
but  you  can't  walk  a  mile  in  a  driving  rain  without  get- 
ting wet.  But  I  didn't  mind  all  of  that  exposure  as  much 
as  the  personal  contact  with  those  filthy,  diseased  children. 
Some  of  the  teachers  don't  seem  to  feel  that  at  all,  but  it 
was  something  sickening  to  me,  and  I  did  not  seem  to  get 
used  to  it." 

Mrs.  Bray  stopped  a  moment,  and  Margaret  asked: 
"  Where  did  Eloise  stay,  when  you  were  absent  from  her 
all  day?" 

"  The  woman  I  rent  this  room  of  is  a  kind,  respectable 
woman,  and  is  very  fond  of  Eloise,  so  she  looked  after 
her.  But  it  was  very  hard  for  me  to  leave  that  little  girl 
all  day,  she  seemed  to  feel  my  being  away  so  much. 
Often  I  have  cried  all  of  the  way  into  the  city,  because 
it  was  so  hard  for  me  to  take  her  little  arms  from  my 
neck,  when  it  was  time  for  me  to  go  to  the  depot.  I  had 
an  idea  of  taking  a  room  in  the  city,  so  that  I  would  not 
have  to  be  away  from  her  for  so  long  a  time,  but  I  found' 
that  it  would  cost  me  double  what  it  did  to  live  out  here. 
Oh!  how  tired  and  discouraged  I  used  to  feel,  but  there 
was  nothing  to  do,  but  keep  right  on,  and  now,  Miss  Mc- 
Vey,  after  I  have  been  through  all  of  this,  and  got  my 
certificate,  I  cannot  get  a  situation."  Again  Mrs.  Bray 
began  to  weep.  "  My  last  dollar  is  spent,  and  God  only 
knows  what  I  am  to  do." 


RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  251 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  cannot  get  a  place  to  teach  ?" 
asked  Margaret. 

"  Not  a  place  that  will  pay  my  expenses.  The  best  I 
can  do  is  twenty-two  dollars  a  month,  and  take  out  six 
dollars  and  thirty-six  cents,  for  my  monthly  railroad 
ticket,  that  would  leave  me  only  fifteen  seventy-five,  for 
rent,  fuel,  clothes,  and  provisions  for  myself  and  Eloise. 
But  my  sister  clothes  Eloise." 

"Can't  you  open  a  kindergarten  here?  wouldn't  that 
pay  you  better  than  going  into  the  city  ?"  asked  Margaret. 

"I  have  thought  that  all  over,"  replied  Mrs.  Bray,  "but 
there  is  one  here,  a  small  one,  taught  by  a  Miss  Allen. 
She  is  living  with  her  mother,  they  have  some  little 
income,  but  she  told  me  that  her  kindergarten  wouldn't 
more  than  half  pay  her  expenses." 

"But  are  there  not  enough  children  in  this  town  to 
support  two  kindergartens?"  asked  Margaret. 

"There  ought  to  be,"  said  Mrs.  Bray,  "but  if  Miss 
Allen  can't  make  hers  pay,  it  would  be  folly  for  me  to 
attempt  to  open  a  second  one.  You  may  think  me  very 
weak,  but  lam  utterly  discouraged,  Miss  McVey;  there 
seems  to  be  no  place  for  Eloise  and  me  in  this  world,  I 
feel  as  though  I  would  like  to  take  her  in  my  arms,  and 
lie  down  in  my  grave.  How  little  the  dear  child  knows 
of  the  life  that  is  before  her."  Mrs.  Bray  laid  her  head 
on  her  hands,  and  cried  without  trying  to  control  herself. 

"  Instead  of  thinking  you  are  weak,"  said  Margaret,  "  I 
think  you  have  been  very  brave  and  strong,  but  it  does 
seem  to  me  that  something  might  be  done,  here  at  home, 
in  the  way  of  a  k  indergarten." 

"  But  think  of  the  expense,"  said  Mrs.  Bray.  "  I  would 
have  to  have  one  large  schoolroom,  or  two  small  ones, 
we  must  have  a  circle,  a  kindergarten  without  a  circle 
wouldn't  be  a  kindergarten,  and  then  the  furnishing  and 


252  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

rent  for  the  rooms.  Miss  Allen  has  ten  scholars,  that  is 
ten  dollars  a  week;  I  couldn't  get  that  number,  and  I 
would  have  to  run  in  debt  for  rent  and  furnishing. 
Kindergarten  furnishing  is  expensive,  our  tables  and 
chairs,  and  all  the  materials  are  expensive.  And  then  I 
would  have  to  rent  a  piano,  I  have  none." 

'•'  Is  the  usual  charge  a  dollar  a  week  for  tuition  ?" 
asked  Margaret. 

"Yes,  in  a  private  kindergarten,"  replied  Mrs.  Bray, 
as  Eloise  came  bounding  into  the  room,  with  hair  flying, 
and  cheeks  aglow.  She  rushed  into  her  mother's  arms, 
exclaiming: 

"Oh!  mamma!  I've  had  such  a  good  time!  George  got 
me  some  grapes,  just  see  them!  I  ate  two  bunches,  big 
ones,  you  eat  some,  they're  so  good!"  The  child  ran  to 
one  of  the  baskets  of  grapes  that  George  had  brought  in 
and  placed  on  the  floor,  and  taking  a  bunch,  flew  back  to 
her  mother,  and  commenced  picking  the  grapes  from  the 
stem,  and  stuffing  them  into  her  mother's  mouth.  Mrs. 
Bray  placed  her  arm  around  the  excited  child,  and  took 
the  grapes  from  her  hand. 

Margaret  rose  to  take  her  departure,  Mrs.  Bray  begged 
her  to  take  at  least  one  basket  of  grapes  home  with  her, 
but  Eloise  flew  back  to  the  baskets,  and  leaning  over 
them,  spread  out  her  little  arms,  as  she  exclaimed: 

"They  are  mine!  George  gave  them  to  me,  didn't  you, 
George?"  Mrs.  Bray's  face  flushed,  but  Margaret  stoop- 
ing, placed  her  arm  around  the  spontaneous  child,  and 
said: 

"  Yes,  they  are  yours,  George  did  get  them  for  you,  I 
don't  wish  for  them,  my  house  is  full  of  grapes.  But 
Eloise,  you  must  come  and  see  me,"  Margaret  continued, 
as  she  put  her  hand  beneath  the  child's  chin,  and  turned 
the  sweet,  fresh  face  toward  her;  "I  haven't  any  mother, 


RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE  253 

but  I  live  with  my  auntie,  and  she  loves  little  girls  dearly, 
almost  as  much  as  I  do.  Will  you  come  and  see  us?" 

The  child  threw  both  arms  around  Margaret's  neck  as 
she  exclaimed: 

"Yes!  I  will!  now?  shall  I  go  home  with  you?  I  love 
you!"  and  the  little  arms  tightened  around  Margaret's 
neck. 

"  Not  to-day,"  said  Margaret,  "your  mother  wouldn't 
let  you  go  to-night,  but  very  soon,  you  and  your  mother 
must  come. "  At  the  outside  door,  where  Margaret  held 
Mrs.  Bray's  hand  in  parting,  she  said: 

"You  will  not  go  to  the  city  to-morrow?" 

"  No,  there  is  nothing  for  me  to  do  there,  I  was  there 
to-day  only  to  supply  the  place  of  a  teacher  who  was  not 
well.  I  am  almost  sick.  I  shall  rest  to-morrow,  then  I 
must  start  out  and  look  for  some  place.  I  must  do  some- 
thing, if  I  can  find  nothing  better,  I  shall  take  one  of 
those  situations  at  twenty-two  dollars  a  month." 

"  Please  don't  go  to  the  city  until  I  see  you  again,"  said 
Margaret,  "I'm  about  sick  myself,  but  I'll  try  and  see 
you  by  day  after  to-morrow.  I  have  a  scheme  that  I  am 
very  desirous  of  carrying  out,  and  I  cannot  do  so,  with- 
out assistance  from  you." 

With  that  understanding  Margaret  went  home.  Aunt 
Deborah  had  tea  on  the  table  five  minutes  after  she 
entered  the  house. 

"You  don't  seem  hungry,  Margaret,  are  you  sick?" 
asked  Miss  Bond,  as  she  observed  that  Margaret  had 
pushed  her  plate  one  side,  and  was  only  sipping  her  tea. 

"  No,  I'm  not  sick,  but  I'm  very  tired.  I  lunched  late 
with  Aunt  Helen.  The  truth  is  I'm  heart  sick,  I've  seen 
suffering  enough  to-day  to  kill  one." 

"Where  have  you  been?"  inquired  Miss  Bond. 

"  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  after  tea,"  answered  Margaret. 


254 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


They  soon  Adjourned  to  the  study,  which  they  made 
their  sitting-room,  occupying  it  just  as  they  had  done  in 
Professor  McVey's  lifetime,  Margaret  laid  down  on  the 
lounge,  and  then  proceeded  to  give  Miss  Bond  an  account 
of  what  she  had  seen  during  the  day,  closing  with  a 
touching  description  of  Mrs.  Bray's  condition,  that 
awakened  all  of  Miss  Bond's  sympathy. 

"I  have  a  plan,"  said  Margaret,  when  she  had  finished 
her  recital,  "  that  I  think  is  a  good  one,  if  it  meets  your 
approval.  You  know  that  I  thought  of  teaching  in  a  city 
kindergarten;  I  see  now  that  I  cannot  do  that,  but  I 
would  like  to  have  a  kindergarten  here  in  the  house  for 
Mrs.  Bray.  She  understands  the  system  thoroughly ;  I 
can  play  the  piano  for  her,  and  render  her  some  assistance 
with  the  children  if  I  choose.  It  will  give  her  a  pleasant 
place  to  work,  and  enable  her  to  earn  enough  to  support 
herself  and  Eloise.  Her  little  girl  is  a  lovely  child,  as 
natural  as  a  bird,  and  full  of  childish  enthusiasm,  you 
couldn't  help  loving  her  if  you  saw  her." 

"Where  did  you  think  of  having  this  kindergarten?" 
asked  Miss  Bond. 

"In  the  parlor,"  replied  Margaret. 

"In  the  parlor!"  exclaimed  Miss  Bond,  "you  don't 
mean  in  our  parlor!  our  large  parlor?" 

"Yes  I  do;  that  is,  if  you  have  no  objections.  This  is 
your  home  as  much  as  mine,  Auntie  Deb,  and  I  wouldn't 
think,  for  a  moment  of  doing  anything  that  would  inter- 
fere with  your  comfort  or  happiness.  But  neither  you  or 
t  care  for  society,  how  little  use  we  make  of  that  parlor." 
Margaret  hurried  on  so  as  to  get  in  all  of  her  points, 
before  Deborah  had  taken  a,  position.  "  It  hate  not  been 
opened  for  six  months,  it  does  no  one  any  good.  Mrs. 
Bray  is  a  suffering  woman,  alone,  and  without  means, 
with  that  little  girl  dependent  on  her.  It  would  melt 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


255 


your  heart  to  look  at  her,  and  hear  her  talk,  she's  not  a 
strong  woman,  either  physically  or  mentally,  but  is  a 
gentle,  shrinking  creature,  that  needs  some  one  to  take 
care  of  her.  Now  if  I  can  get  the  scholars — it  all  hinges 
on  that — I'll  try  to-morrow,  I'll  go  to  all  of  rny  acquaint- 
ances who  have  small  children,  and  if  I  can  get  the 
scholars,  and  you  should  think  best,  we  could  take  out 
that  furniture  and  pack  it  away  up  stairs  somewhere,  and 
I  would  get  the  little  tables  and  chairs,  and  move  my 
piano  into  the  room,  and  in  less  than  a  week  we  might 
have  a  lovely  kindergarten  in  there,  and  Mrs.  Bray  would 
be  as  happy  as  a  queen.  She  is  a  real  lady,  auntie,  and 
the  little  children  who  would  come  to  the  house,  would 
all  be  nice,  dear  little  creatures,  just  as  sweet  and  pretty 
as  they  could  be.  You  and  I  have  nothing  to  do,  and  we 
ought  to  come  in  contact  with  the  outside  world  some- 
what, and  you  might  find  Mrs.  Bray  a  pleasant  person  to 
talk  with  sometimes." 

"I  have  plenty  to  do,  Margaret,"  said  Miss  Bond,  but 
Margaret  thought  of  the  many  hours  she  had  devoted  to 
her  aunt,  reading  books  to  her  that  she  did  not  care  at 
all  for  herself,  and  going  to  places  where  she  did  not  care 
to  go,  in  order  to  keep  the  kind-hearted  woman  from 
becoming  lonely  in  the  house,  out  of  which  had  been 
taken  the  object  of  her  greatest  care.  Miss  Bond  added: 
"  But  I  see  no  objection  to  your  plan,  only  what  will 
you  do  for  a  carpet?  and  the  hall  carpet,  too,  the  chil- 
dren will  ruin  that." 

"I  don't  care  for  the  parlor  carpet,  let  it  wear  out,  I 
never  did  like  it,  and  as  for  the  hall,  we'll  have  the  front 
of  it  covered  with  oilcloth,  or  heavy  linen." 

"  But  who  is  to  pay  for  the  tables  and  chairs  of  which 
you  speak  ?"  asked  Miss  Bond. 

"I  am,"  replied   Margaret,  "I  ought  to  do  some  good 


256  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

with  the  money  I  have,  and  how  could  I  put  some  of  it  to 
a  better  use,  than  assisting  that  fatherless  child  and  needy 
woman  ?" 

"  I  declare,  Margaret,  you  ought  to  have  been  a 
preacher;  you  could  convince  anybody  of  anything." 
Margaret  smiled  over  her  easy  conquest. 

"  Now,  what  do  you  think  of  my  plan  ?"  asked  Margaret. 
"You  see,  Mrs.  Bray  will  have  clear,  all  of  the  tuition 
of  the  children,  she  will  have  no  rent  to  pay,  or  expense 
for  warming  her  room.  I  don't  know  what  we  can  do  for 
a  circle." 

"A  circle,  what's  that?"  asked  Miss  Bond.  As  soon 
as  Margaret  explained  the  meaning,  and  the  necessity  of 
a  kindergarten  circle,  Miss  Bond  said: 

"  Oh,  I  could  make  one  iri  the  center  of  the  parlor  that 
would  answer  perfectly,  and  it  would  be  the  diameter  of 
the  width  of  the  room;  that  would  be  large  enough." 

"'What  would  you  make  it  of?"  asked  Margaret. 

"  Some  broad  bias  bands  of  strong  white  cloth,  or 
bright  colored  cloth,  if  you  think  best.  White  linen  duck 
would  be  good,  sewed  right  onto  the  carpet,  or  nailed 
down  with  flat  headed  brass  nails." 

As  soon  as  Miss  Bond  became  interested  in  Margaret's 
project,  she  applied  herself  energetically  to  push  it  for- 
ward, and  hastened  Margaret  off  the  next  day  on  her  tour 
of  solicitation  for  scholars,  which  proved  a  more  success- 
ful one  than  either  had  anticipated.  Twenty  children 
were  pledged,  without  Margaret  approaching  any  of  the 
families  that  patronized  Miss  Allen's  class.  "Suppose 
we  say  eighteen,  Aunt  Deb,"  said  Margaret,  as  they  sat 
at  the  tea-table,  when  she  was  giving  an  account  of  her 
experience  during  the  day.  "Somebody  always  fails  to 
come  to  time,  that  will  be  eighteen  dollars  a  week.  You 
see  kindergarten  tuition  is  a  dollar  a  week,  let  me  see — 
Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake, 


RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


257 


four  times  eight  are  thirty-two;  yes,  that  will  be — 
seventy-two  dollars  a  month.  Am  I  right?  yes,  it  will  be 
seventy-two  dollars,  just  think  of  it!  Perhaps  we'd  better 
give  a  wider  margin;  say  we  are  sure  of  fifteen  pupils, 
that  will  give  sixty  dollars  a  month.  We  shall  get  that 
positively,  and  no  car  fare,  or  schoolroom  rent,  for  Mrs. 
Bray  to  pay.  How  much  better  that  will  be  than  going 
into  the  city,  for  twenty-two  a  month,  and  now  she  can 
have  Eloise  with  her  all  of  the  time.  I  will  run  over 
and  see  her  now,  and  you  send  George  for  me  at  half-past 
eight." 

"Why  do  you  go  to-night,  Margaret?  you  look  very 
tired,  you  will  make  yourself  sick." 

"I  am  tired,"  replied  Margaret,  leaning  her  head  on 
her  hand,  "  but  Mrs.  Bray  told  me  yesterday  that  she 
hadn't  a  dollar,  and  I  presume  that  she  would  like  to  get 
to  work  as  soon  as  possible.  I  told  everybody  that  the 
school  would  open  next  week.  I  must  see  Mrs.  Bray  to 
get  a  list  of  the  furniture,  and  what  she  calls  materials, 
and  order  them  to-morrow.  I'll  go  down  to  the  city  in 
the  morning.  I  declare '."she  exclaimed,  raising  her  head 
from  her  hand,  and  opening  her  eyes  wide,  "  I  ought  not 
to  have  gone  into  this  without  consulting  Aunt  Helen,  I 
utterly  forgot  it,  I'll  see  her  the  first  thing  in  the  morning, 
but  I  don't  believe  she'll  object." 

Margaret  found  Mrs.  Bray  down  with  a  neuralgic  head- 
ache, but  she  insisted  that  Margaret  should  sit  beside  her 
bed,  and  tell. her,  to  the  last  detail,  of  all  her  plans. 
When  Margaret  had  laid  the  whole  affair  before  her,  she 
said:  "But  you  calculate  on  the  basis  of  fifteen  pupils; 
two-thirds  of  the  tuition  must  go  to  you.  You  supply 
the  room,  and  fuel  and  piano.  I  cannot  consent  to  take 
more  than  twenty  dollars  a  month,  and  that  will  be  very 
much  better  than  going  into  the  city  at  twenty-two. 
17- 


258  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

You  are  very  kind,  but  this  is  a  matter  of  business  justice; 
there  are  necessities  in  your  life,  as  well  as  in  mine." 

Margaret  made  no  reply  for  several  minutes,  then  lay- 
ing her  hand  on  Mrs.  Bray's,  that  rested  on  the  edge  of 
the  bed,  she  said  in  a  sad  voice:  "The  necessities  in  my 
life,  my  dear  Mrs.  Bray,  are  not  pecuniary  ones.  As  you 
intimated  yesterday,  that  you  inferred  from  something 
your  sister  had  said  to  you,  I  have  a  comfortable  income, 
more  than  sufficient  for  my  personal  needs.  My  mother 
died  years  ago,  and  my  dear  father  left  me  last  spring;  I 
live  alone  in  the  old  home  with  a  maiden  aunt,  we  two 
in  the  house  alone.  It  is  very  quiet  and  lonely.  We  go 
in  no  society,  we  don't  choose  to.  I  thought  I  would 
like  to  study  kindergarten,  you  know  all  about  it,  my 
parlor  is  no  use  to  me,  and  the  house  has  to  be  heated 
any  way.  If  you  will  open  a  kindergarten  there,  I  can 
render  a  little  assistance  in  playing  the  piano,  and  you 
can  teach  me,  give  me  the  practical  knowledge  —  the 
theoretical  I  do  not  care  to  have — I  once  thought  I  would 
like  it,  but  now  I  do  not  care  at  all  about  it.  It  will  be 
a  delight  to  both  my  aunt  and  myself,  to  have  those  s\veet 
children  in  the  house;  my  aunt  is  very  fond  of  children, 
and  their  presence,  and  the  kindergarten  music  will  break 
the  gloom  and  silence  of  the  house."  Margaret  was  feel- 
ing her  way,  was  trying  to  delicately  accomplish  her 
object.  "That  will  more  than  compensate  me  for  any 
outlay  that  I  may  make,  to  say  nothing  of  the  infor- 
mation that  I  shall  obtain  from  you,  and  how  much  pleas- 
anter  to  get  it  in  that  way,  than  to  have  to  go  through  all 
of  the  exertion  and  exposure  that  you  suffered  last  year. 
As  to  the  sixty  dollars  a  month,  you  will  fairjy  earn  it, 
and  I  have  no  need  of  it,  I  shall  receive  more  than  an 
equivalent  for  what  I  pay  out,  in  the  arrangement.  I 
have  set  my  heart  on  the  plan,  and  have  more  than  money 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


259 


enough  to  carry  it  out,  and  shall  be  seriously  disappointed 
if  you  do  not  feel  that  you  can  assist  me.  And  then, 
auntie  and  I  will  have  your  little  darling  part  of  the  time. 
She  is  a  lovely  child,  Mrs.  Bray,  and  it  will  be  a  positive 
pleasure  to  have  her  with  us  all  of  the  time  if  you  would 
only  give  her  to  us!"  Margaret  laughed  merrily  as  she 
said  this,  and  pressed  Mrs.  Bray's  hand.  "Sixty  dollars 
a  month  is  not  a  large  income  for  you  and  Eloise,"  Mar- 
garet continued,  "  especially  as  it  will  be  for  only  eight 
months  of  the  year.  Didn't  you  tell  me  that  kinder- 
gartens had  only  eight  months  of  school  a  year?"  Mrs. 
Bray  was  lying  perfectly  still,  with  one  arm  thrown  across 
her  face.  As  she  made  no  reply  to  Margaret's  question, 
Margaret  continued,  "  That  will  be  only  four  hundred 
and  eighty  dollars  a  year,  if  we  have  fifteen  pupils,  and 
only  six  hundred  and  forty,  if  all  come  who  have  prom- 
ised, I  don't  see  how  you  can  live  on  that,  but  it  is  better 
than  twenty-two  a  month,  and  then,  perhaps  your  school 
will  grow.  I  will  keep  the  accounts  and  collect  the 
money,  for  awhile  at  any  rate,  for  you  will  be  very  busy 
at  first.  I  felt  so  sure,  Mrs.  Bray,  that  your  judgment 
would  coincide  with  mine,  and  that  you  would  not  refuse 
to  assist  me  in  carrying  out  my  wishes,  that  I  brought 
with  me  the  first  month's  collection,  which  I  will  advance. 
You  must  have  had  heavy  expenses  in  gaining  your  kinder- 
garten knowledge."  Margaret  opened  her  purse,  and 
placed  within  Mrs.  Bray's  hand  that  she  held,  eight  ten 
dollar  bills.  Mrs.  Bray's  fingers  clasped  the  bills,  and 
she  threw  her  arm  around  Margaret's  neck  and  drew  her 
head  down  to  her  own,  as  she  burst  into  sobs,  and  for  a 
few  minutes  sobbed  hysterically;  Margaret  strove  to  quiet 
her,  and  at  last  succeeded. 

"You  don't  know  what   it  is,"  said  Mrs.    Bray,  when 
sufficiently  composed  to  speak  distinctly,  "  to  be  in  debt, 


260  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISFAKK 

and  not  have  a  dollar  to  pay  with.  I  hnve  a  two  months' 
grocery  bill  that  is  not  paid,  and  I  have  fairly  dreaded 
going  down  street.  They  hesitate  when  I  give  an  order 
in  that  grocery,  and  I  dare  not  go  to  another  without 
money.  Loan  me  this  eighty  dollars,  Miss  McVey,  if  you 
can,  and  let  me  pay  my  debts.  Can  it  be  possible  that  I 
shall  have  eighty  dollars  a  month!  what  an  angel  you 
are!  what  suffering  you  are  saving  me  from." 

Margaret  continued  to  insist  that  the  obligation,  in  the 
end  would  be  on  her  side,  and  her  cheerful,  practical  way 
of  looking  at  matters,  very  soon  completely  restored  Mrs. 
Bray's  composure;  she  got  off  of  the  bed,  declaring  that 
her  head  was  well. 

"  I  seem  to  have  crept  from  under  a  mountain,  how 
light  I  feel!"  she  said,  as  she  was  looking  over  a  cata- 
logue that  lay  on  the  table,  in  order  to  make  out  a  list  of 
her  furniture,  and  kindergarten  material  for  Margaret. 

Miss  Sargent  approved  of  Margaret's  plans,  and  Miss 
Bond  completed  her  ingenious  circle,  the  furniture  came, 
the  little  tables  and  chairs  were  arranged  in  the  parlor, 
and  on  the  appointed  day,  Margaret  was  seated  at  the 
piano,  as  Mrs.  Bray,  looking  ten  years  younger,  was  super- 
intending the  twenty  children — every  one  came — who 
fluttered  around  her  like  so  many  birds,  with  their  bright 
faces,  well  kept  hair,  and  pretty  dresses.  Miss  Bond  was 
as  much  pleased  as  the  youngest  child  present,  with  the 
novelty  of  the  scene.  She  was  seated  a  little  one  side, 
holding  Eloise,  for  whom  she  had  conceived  a  great  fond- 
ness, on  her  lap.  The  fondness  seemed  fully  returned,  for 
the  child  had  one  arm  around  Miss  Bond's  neck  and  from 
time  to  time,  she  would  draw  her  head  down,  so  that  she 
could  whisper  in  her  ear,  something  about  "  our  kinder- 
garten." Margaret  not  only  supplied  whatever  music  was 
necessary,  but  both  she  and  Miss  Bond,  under  Mrs.  Bray's 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  261 

direction,  prepared  colored  papers,  counted  out  splints, 
and  divided  the  blocks  among  the  children,  and  made 
themselves  useful  in  various  ways.  Miss  Bond  was  sur- 
prised when  the  clock  struck  twelve,  and  wondered  where 
the  time  had  gone.  She  insisted  that  Mrs.  Bray  and  Eloise 
should  stay  to  luncheon  with  Margaret  and  herself, 
and  much  to  Margaret's  amusement,  the  usually  quiet 
woman  talked  incessantly  about  the  morning's  exercises, 
the  children's  laughable  mistakes,  and  their  enthusi- 
astic interest.  Poor  Margaret's  sad  heart  was  sorely 
taxed,  but  no  one  would  have  suspected  it,  as  she  went 
through  the  morning  routine.  Nor  did  she  hasten  Mrs. 
Bray's  departure  after  luncheon,  and  she  listened  with 
patient  gentleness  to  Eloise's  prattle,  and  kissed  her 
again  and  again,  at  the  front  door,  sending  both 
mother  and  child  to  their  humble  home  with  hearts 
full  of  happiness.  But  as  soon  as  the  door  was  closed  on 
them,  she  went  into  the  study  and  dropped  into  her 
father's  large  chair.  "  What  a  mechanical  thing  it  all  is," 
she  thought,  as  she  leaned  back  and  closed  her  eyes. 
"How  little  these  happy  children  know  what  is  before 
them;  and  those  wretched  children  in  the  mission,  what 
miserable  little  sufferers!  how  far  the  bitter  waters  spread; 
what  suffering  Mrs.  Bray  had  last  year,  husband  dead, 
money  gone,  in  debt."  Then  her  mind  ran  over  the  last 
year  of  her  own  life,  sorrow  within  and  without,  and  it 
seemed  that  hers  was  no  special  experience,  every  one  of 
the  men,  women  and  children,  on  Leek  street  had  hearts 
that  suffered,  and  eyes  that  wept;  they  did  not  suffer  in 
the  way  she  did,  but  in  their  own  hard  way,  and  were 
they  to  blame  for  their  miserable  situation  ?  what  could 
it  mean,  where  did  it  all  tend?  Here  consecutive  thought 
ceased,  and  her  thoughts  wandered  off  into  vague,  broken, 
uselessly-repeated  questions. 


262  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

A  few  days  after,  as  Margaret  was  sitting  in  Miss  Sar- 
gent's room,  Miss  Sargent  said  to  her:  "  Do  you  get  any 
happiness  out  of  your  kindergarten,  Margaret,  beyond  the 
consciousness  of  the  relief  that  you  have  given  Mrs. 
Bray  ?" 

"It  breaks  the  day,"  Margaret  replied,  "and  I  find 
that  it  is  well  to  have  a  duty  to  look  forward  to.  You  may 
think  it  strange,  Aunt  Helen,  but  the  simple  fact  that  I 
am  to  be  in  that  room,  down  to  the  piano  at  nine  o'clock, 
is  a  good  thing  for  me;  I  know  that  I  am  of  use  there, 
that  something  depends  on  me." 

"But  will  you  be  compelled  to  hold  yourself  to  that  all 
winter?" 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  Margaret.  "I  shall  begin  next  week 
to  teach  Eloise  the  tunes  that  are  of  daily  use  to  her 
mother;  she  has  a  remarkable  ear  for  music,  she  hangs 
around  tlje  piano  constantly.  She  can  easily  learn  the 
chords,  and  the  simple  tunes  that  I  play  for  the  children. 
I  believe  after  awhile  I  will  give  her  regular  instructions, 
and  if  h£r  improvement  warrants  it,  I'll  underake  her 
musical  education,  and  when  she  is  old  enough,  I'll  place 
her  with  competent  teachers.  Aunt  Deb  thinks  she  will 
make  another  Vogner.  It's  wonderful,  the  delight  Aunt 
Deb  finds  in  those  children,  I  never  saw  her  as  happy." 

"  I'm  surprised  at  that,"  said  Miss  Sargent.  "  I  would 
have  supposed  the  confusion  of  having  so  many  children 
in  the  house  would  have  annoyed  her,  she  is  such  a  par- 
ticular housekeeper." 

"No,  it  does  not  seem  to,"  replied  Margaret.  "She 
seems  delighted  with  the  whole  thing,  and  so  do  the 
servants.  You  would  have  laughed  to  have  seen  them 
yesterday,  when  the  children  were  on  the  circle.  Mary  and 
Christine  came  in  and  stood  at  the  lower  end  of  the  room, 
watching  the  exercises  with  a  sort  of  surprised  delight, 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE  263 

and  there  was  George,  standing  outside,  with  his  arms 
leaning  on  the  window-sill — we  had  all  of  the  windows 
open — and  he  looked  as  pleased  as  a  boy  at  a  circus.  It 
really  will  be  a  good  thing  for  the  household,  having  that 
kindergarten  there."  Margaret  looked  out  of  a  window 
near  by,  as  she  ceased  speaking,  with  eyes  full  of  dumbj 
grinding  pain. 

Miss  Sargent  gazed  for  a  few  moments  upon  the  pale 
face,  and  then  she  broke  the  silence. 

'Don't  go  home  to-day,  Margaret,"  she  said,  "they 
can  get  on  some  way  without  you  to-morrow  morning, 
dear;  stay  in  and  pass  the  night  with  me." 

•'Not  to-night,  Aunt  Helen,  I'll  come  down  next  week; 
I  shall  have  to  come  in  Tuesday,  to  order  some  books 
for  Mrs.  Bray." 

"And  then  you'll  pass  the  night?" 

"Yes,  and  T  shall  be  down  Thursday  too,  and  perhaps 
I'll  stay  then." 

The  next  Thursday  afternoon,  Margaret  concluded  the 
purchase  of  some  books  which  she  had  examined  the  Tues- 
day before,  on  her  way  to  Miss  Sargent's.  The  bookstore 
was  located  on  Western  avenue,  which  ran  parallel  with 
Union  avenue,  where  Miss  Sargent  resided.  -The  next 
parallel  street  was  Leek  street.  As  is  frequently  the  case 
in  large  cities,  there  was  but  one  block  between  opulence 
and  poverty,  happiness  and  misery,  respectability  and 
crime.  Union  avenue  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
streets  in  America.  It  was  the  main  thoroughfare  to  the 
fashionable  driving  park,  and  during  the  driving  hours 
of  the  day  was  a  gay  scene,  made  up  of  prancing  horses, 
elegant  carriages,  and  well  dressed  men  and  women. 
Margaret  crossed  from  Western  avenue  to  Union  avenue, 
which  she  reached  about  the  hour  that  society  people  were 
on  their  way  to  the  park,  and  there  was  such  a  stream  of 


264  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

swiftly  moving  carriages,  three  and  four  abreast,  that  she 
was  compelled  to  wait  a  moment  on  the  corner  for  a 
chance  to  cross  to  the  other  side,  on  which  Miss  Sargent's 
residence  was  located.  It  was  a  warm  October  day,  and 
a  bright  yellow  sunlight  was  reflected  from  the  mountings 
of  the  harnesses,  and  the  swinging  chains  that  bedecked 
the  horses,  and  from  the  polished  surface  of  the  carriages. 
Margaret  glanced  up  and  down  the  street;  there  seemed 
no  end  or  beginning  of  the  gay  procession;  all  was  swift 
motion  and  flashing  brightness,  as  the  hundreds  of  equi- 
pages rolled  by  her  with  their  pleasure-seeking  occupants. 
As  Margaret  stepped  forward  to  attempt  the  passage  of 
the  crossing,  her  eye  was  arrested  by  a  victoria  passing 
directly  in  front  of  her,  Leaning  back  in  it,  in  luxurious 
ease,  sat  Rodger  Latimer,  and  beside  him  was  a  beautiful 
woman,  richly  dressed.  His  head  was  turned  toward  the 
lady,  who  sat  on  the  side  next  to  Margaret,  and  thus  she 
saw  him  full  in  the  face.  He  looked  in  strong  health,  and 
full  of  happiness.  There  was  a  smile  on  his  lips  and  in  his 
eyes  as  he  gazed  upon  the  woman's  face,  and  listened  to 
something  that  she  was  saying.  The  victoria  passed 
swiftly  and  neither  of  its  occupants  saw  the  slight  figure 
draped  in  black,  or  the  white  face,  from  which  a  pair  of 
large, sunken  eyes  looked  out  upon  them.  Margaret  quickly 
crossed  the  street,  heedless  of  any  danger  that  might 
menace  her  from  the  rapidly  passing  horses.  Instead  of 
going  up  Union  avenue  to  Judge  Sargent's  residence  that 
was  a  few  blocks  above  where  she  was,  she  kept  straight 
on  and  crossed  to  Leek  street.  The  second  of  time  in 
which  her  eye  had  rested  upon  Rodger's  face,  completed 
the.  desolation  of  her  heart,  that  hitherto  seemed  to  lack 
no  element  of  complete  woe.  She  had  been  like  an  ex- 
hausted creature  lying  alone  in  the  night  on  the  bare 
earth,  beaten  upon  by  a  storm ;  but  the  cold  and  rain, 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  265 

the  isolation  and  darkness,  were  not  enough ;  out  of  the 
heavens  came  a  broad  blaze  of  blinding  brightness,  and 
from  the  glorious  splendor  that  covered  the  dome  in 
swiftly  sweeping  light,  descended  the  scathing  lightning, 
that  with  a  dart  smote  every  nerve  with  an  instantaneous 
agony  that  seemed  to  kill  as  it  struck.  Her  intense  na- 
ture rocked  and  shivered  in  anguish  as  the  vision  of 
Rodger's  happy  face  leaning  toward  that  beautiful  woman 
passed  by  her;  then  the  October  brightness  turned  to 
night,  and  a  numbness  crept  over  her.  She  did  not  think, 
but  rather  felt,  that  she  must  get  away  from  the  happiness 
of  that  avenue,  it  was  no  place  for  her.  She  moved  like 
one  walking  in  sleep,  and  her  thoughts  were  disconnected, 
and  dragged  along  as  though  her  brain  was  paralyzed  by 
an  opiate.  Instinctively  she  turned  in  her  inarticulate 
misery  to  the  dwelling  places  of  the  miserable.  Just  as 
she  reached  Leek  street,  a  car  was  passing,  going  down; 
it  stopped  to  let  off  passengers,  and  she  stepped  on.  She 
had  a  long  nun's  veiling  veil  on  her  arm  which  she  wound 
around  her  head  and  face.  The  conductor  had  to'  speak 
to  he"  twice,  and  even  touch  her  on  the  shoulder,  before 
she  responded  to  his  call  for  her  fare.  The  car  took  her 
within  a  few  blocks  of  the  Edgewood  depot,  and  when  it 
stopped  and  all  of  the  passengers  left,  she  mechanically 
stepped4  to  the  sidewalk.  Then  she  looked  around,  col- 
lected herself  a  little,  hesitated  a  moment,  walked  on  to 
the  depot,  and  seated  herself  in  the  first  outgoing  Edge- 
wood  train.  When  she  reached  the  depot  in  Edgewood, 
she  went  into  a  telegraph  office  and  sent  a  few  words  to 
Miss  Sargent,  and  then  walked  rapidly  homeward,  choos- 
ing the  least  frequented  way.  George  was  raking  the 
leaves  off  the  lawn,  the  front  door  was  open,  and  the 
quiet  hush  of  the  after-sunset  hour  rested  on  the  place. 
Margaret  met  no  one  in  the  hall  as  she  passed  through  it 


266  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

to  her  own  "Sans  Souci."  The  west  windows  were  open, 
and  the  red  and  yellow  of  the  evening  sky  cast  a  tender 
glow  into  the  silent  room,  but  she  did  not  feel  its  beauty, 
nor  did  she  think  of  this  as  her  home  for  the  coming  winter, 
made  comfortable  by  the  superintendency  of  her  Aunt 
Deborah,  a  home  that  would  hold  some  slight  daily  occu- 
pation for  herself,  in  connection  with  the  little  children 
she  had  gathered  there,  and  the  bereft  woman  whose  life 
she  had  changed  from  one  of  fearful  apprehension  to  a 
sweet  contentment.  She  thought  of  nothing  as  she  sank 
exhaustedly  into  a  chair,  and  she  saw  nothing,  but  Rodger 
beside  the  beautiful  woman  in  the  victoria,  the  view  of 
which  had  burned  itself  into  her  brain. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Mrs.  Rodger  Latimer's  summer  had  been  a  successful 
pleasure  seeking.  A  few  weeks  before  the  wedding,  her 
lover  had  expressed  the  opinion  that  a  summer  abroad, 
they  two  alone,  amid  the  lakes  of  England  or  mountains 
of  Switzerland,  would  be,  of  all  things,  the  most  charm- 
ing; and  Marie  had  immediately  declared  that  nothing 
would  delight  her  more.  But  some  way,  Mr.  Latimer 
hardly  knew  how,  their  arrangements  culminated  in  an 
itinerary  of  American  watering  places.  He  and  Mrs. 
White  planned  the  tour.  He  could  not  remember  that 
Marie  ever  expressed  a  wish  or  uttered  one  word  regarding 
the  various  places  under  discussion,  and  yet  he  felt  sure 
that  she  was  pleased  with  the  plans  made  by  Mrs.  White 
and  himself.  So  instead  of  quiet  drives  in  the  English 
lake  region,  alone  with  his  bride,  he  had  drives  on  the 
Newport  and  Long  Branch  beaches.  In  place  of  the 
seclusion  of  English  country  inns,  there  was  the  noise 
and  crowd  of  fashionable  hotels.  He  soon  became  con- 
scious that  they  attracted  attention  wherever  they  located 
themselves,  for  a  longer  or  shorter  time;  and  he  thought 
it  natural  enough  that  Marie's  personal  beauty  should  do 
this,  and  he  reproached  himself  for  not  feeling  greater 
gratification  on  account  of  the  sensation  she  produced,  as 
he  saw  her,  morning  after  morning,  and  evening  after 
evening,  dressed  in  beautiful  costumes,  and  wearing  the 
rare  jewels  that  he  had  been  delighted  to  bestow  upon 
her;  surrounded  by  men  who  vied  with  each  other  in 
offering  her  attention  and  adulation.  He  often  turned 
away  with  the  wish  that  the  summer  was  past,  and  he  and 
his  wife  were  located  in  their  own  home.  He  was  tired  of 
267 


268  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

dances  and  dinners,  of  Newport  polo  and  Saratoga  coach- 
ing, of  yachting,  and  of  crowds  and  noise;  and  longed  for 
quiet  evenings  alone  with  his  beautiful  wife.  He  ex- 
pressed none  of  this  weariness,  however,  or  his  desire  for 
an  early  return  home,  to  Marie,  for  he  saw  that  she  was 
very  happy  in  the  gaiety  of  these  fashionable  places. 

"  You  don't  seem  to  care  much  for  any  of  these  beautiful 
women,  Rodger,"  said  Marie  to  him  one  day  in  Saratoga; 
"I  thought  you  were  fond  of  ladies'  society." 

"No,  my  love,  I  don't  believe  I  am;  if  I  ever  was  I'm 
so  no  longer.  You're  the  only  woman  in  the  world  I  care 
to  look  at,"  he  replied,  as  he  drew  her  to  him  with  lover 
like  fondness.  "  Come,  let  us  go  up  into  the  pine  grove 
for  a  walk,  away  from  all  of  these  people." 

"O  I  can't,  Rodger,"  Marie  replied.  "It  would  be 
delightful,  but  I  have  an  engagement.  Don't  you  know 
that  I'm  to  drive  with  Colonel  Moran  ?  He  has  his  coach 
here,  and  has  invited  a  party  to  go  to  the  lake.  I'm  so 
sorry  you're  not  going." 

Mr.  Latimer  stood  on  the  hotel  piazza  and  saw  his  wife 
drive  off,  seated  beside  Colonel  Moran.  He  watched 
them  out  of  sight,  and  then  went  to  his  room  in  search  of 
a  book,  wishing  that  October  would  come.  When  it  did 
come,  he  was  among  the  earliest  travelers  that  returned 
from  seashore  and  mountain,  from  Europe  and  California, 
to  take  possession  of  the  homes  that  had  been  unswathed 
from  summer  packings,  and  made  ready  for  winter 
occupancy.  Marie  was  willing  to  return  early,  in  order 
to  see  that  everything  was  to  her  mind  in  her  house  before 
the  season  opened.  Mr.  Latimer  had  rented,  for  the  year, 
a  beautiful  residence  on  one  of  the  fashionable  avenues; 
that  was  furnished  as  completely  as  wealth  and  cultured 
taste  could  furnish  a  house.  The  place  belonged  to  an 
acquaintance  of  his,  one  of  Clinton's  wealthiest  citizens, 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  269 

whose  wife  was  in  ill  health,  and  decided  to  take  a  year's 
rest  in  Europe. 

"Only  for  one  year,  you  say,"  replied  Marie,  when  her 
husband  consulted  her  regarding  the  feasibility  of  their 
taking  a  furnished  house.  "Yes,  it  may  answer  for  one 
year,  then  we  will  have  our  own  home." 

"  I  shall  be  very  sorry,  my  love,  if  our  not  living  in  our 
own  house  will  make  any  difference  with  your  happiness," 
said  Mr.  Latimer;  "but  you  know  we  make  the  home  for 
each  other,  wherever  we  are;  and  we  shall  be  alone  by 
our  own  fireside,  and  then  it  is  really  a  pleasant  house 
and  beautifully  furnished." 

"Yes,  the  house  is  well  enough,"  said  Marie,  "but 
there's  an  air  about  living  anywhere,  out  of  one's  own 
house,  that  is  not  agreeable.  It's  a  little  different  for  a 
woman  to  be  mistress  of  her  own  house." 

At  last  every  arrangement  was  complete  in  house  and 
stable,  and  Mr.  Latimer  was  full  of  blissful  antici- 
pations. Now,  his  beautiful  wife  would  belong  to  him, 
now,  they  would  have  long  evenings  together  for  reading, 
beside  the  open  fire,  with  shades  drawn  down,  to  shut  out 
even  the  momentary  gaze  of  passers-by.  His  house  was 
to  be  his  castle.  Now  he  could  become  acquainted  with 
Marie,  whom  he  felt  he  knew  less  of,  since  his  marriage, 
than  before;  and  how  delicious  would  be  the  revelations 
of  love  that  awaited  him!  Full  of  such  dreams  of  home 
life,  Mr.  Latimer,  one  evening  after  dinner,  when  they 
had  been  settled  in  this  house  several  weeks,  took  Marie's 
hand  as  they  entered  the  library,  and  said: 

"Now  what  shall  I  read  to  you  love,  or  what  will  you 
read  to  me?"  He  moved  a  large  chair  for  her  in  front  of 
the  fire,  and  seating  himself  beside  a  small  table,  on 
which  stood  a  lamp  of  wondrous  beauty,  commenced  cut- 
ting the  leaves  of  a  magazine.  He  had  scarcely  ran  his 


270 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE 


paper-knife  twice  through  the  leaves,  when  the  butler  put 
aside  the  portieres,  and  announced,  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ther- 
bert. "  An  expression  of  delight  instantly  lit  up  Mrs. 
Latimer's  face.  She  met  her  guests  with  rapturous  ex- 
clamations. 

"This  is  lovely  in  you,  to  come  and  see  us  so  soon,  in 
this  informal  way,  I'm  delighted  to  see  you!" 

The  ladies  kissed  each  other  in  an  affectionate  manner, 
and  sat  down  side  by  side  on  the  sofa.  Mr.  Latimer  laid 
his  book  on  the  table  with  well-concealed  vexation.  There 
were  but  few  people  he  would  have  welcomed  to  his  antici- 
pated paradise  that  evening,  and  neither  Mr.  or  Mrs. 
Therbe4  were  of  the  number.  Mrs.  Therbert  he  had 
always  disliked;  he  considered  her  a  vain,  heartless 
woman,  in  whom  love  of  approbation  had  eaten  out  the 
core  of  all  womanly  affection,  and  he  felt  a  slight  indig- 
nation as  he  saw  her  kiss  his  wife  so  fondly.  The  con- 
versation flowed  glibly  without  much  effort  on  his  part  as 
host,  to  keep  it  up.  The  ladies  chatted  of  the  past  sum- 
mer, of  the  places  they  had  respectively  visited,  and  the 
people  they  had  met.  Mr.  Therbert  immediately  plunged 
into  speculations  regarding  the  business  prospects  of  the 
approaching  winter.  Mr.  Latimer  furtively  looked  at  the 
clock  on  the  mantel.  Nine  o'clock,  they  would  leave 
soon,  and  he  and  Marie  would  have  at  least  two  hours  to 
themselves.  As  he  was  consoling  himself  with  this 
thought,  the  butler  announced,  "Mrs.  Lundom  White." 
As  this  lady  came  down  the  room,  Mrs.  Therbert  clapped 
her  hands,  and  exclaimed: 

"  I  waited  for  you,  I  haven't  said  a  word  to  Mrs.  Lati- 
mer about  it." 

"So  you  knew  Harriet  was  coming,"  said  Marie,  as  she 
kissed  her  sister,  and  placed  her  in  an  easy  chair,  "but 
what  conspiracy  are  you  two  in  now  ?" 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


271 


"It's  no  conspiracy  at  all,  Marie,"  said  Mrs.  White, 
"and  I  supposed  you  and  Mrs.  Therbert  would  have  the 
whole  thing  settled  by  this  time.  I  could  not  come  any 
sooner, "  turning  to  Mrs.  Therbert,  "Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ed- 
munds came  in,  and  have  just  left." 

"Well,  what  is  it,  Harriet,  I'm  dying  of  curiosity," 
said  Mrs.  Latimer. 

"  It's  about  the  dancing  class;  you  see  Marie,  that  I 
can't  give  so  much  time  to  it,  and  Mrs.  Therbert  and 
Mrs.  Edmunds  wish  you  to  take  my  place." 

"Why,  Harriet,  I  wouldn't  do  it  for  the  world.  I  don't 
think  it  would  be  in  good  taste." 

"I  would  like  to  know  why?"  asked  Mrs.  Therbert. 

"So  should  I,"  rejoined  Mrs.  White. 

"Simply  because  I've  been  married  so  short  a  time," 
replied  Mrs.  Latimer. 

"What  of  that?"  said  Mrs.  Therbert,  who  had  been 
prominent  in  Clinton  society  for  nearly  ten  years,  "that 
doesn't  make  the  least  difference,  you're  not  like  a 
stranger,  you  know  Clinton  society  as  well  as  any  of  us. 
You  have  had  four  full  seasons,  and  you  will  be  com- 
pelled now  to  take  a  leading  position." 

"As  a  matter  of  course,"  added  Mrs.  White,  "you  will 
entertain  a  great  deal,  and  there's  no  earthly  reason  why 
you  shouldn't  relieve  me.  Now,  be  good,  Marie,  and  do 
as  we  all  wish  you  to." 

"Why,  Harriet,  don't  speak  in  that  way,  I  would-be 
delighted  to  do  it,  if  I  thought  it  best.  But  I'll  do  it," 
quickly  added  Mrs.  Latimer,  as  she  saw  a  look  of  dis- 
pleasure settling  on  her  sister's  face.  "I'll  give  up  my 
own  judgment  to  you,  and  Mrs.  Therbert." 

"We'll  have  a  lovely  time  this  winter,"  said  Mrs. 
Therbert,  reaching  out  her  hand  to  give  Mrs.  Latimer's 
hand  an  affectionate  pressure,  "  You  come  to  my  house 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

to-morrow,  and  we'll  revise  the  invitation  list.  Or  I'll 
come  here  if  you  prefer.  Yes,  I'll  stop  here  on  my  way 
down  town.  Don't  you  think  Mrs.  White,  that  we  better 
get  the  invitations  out  soon,  so  we  can  make  a  choice  of 
evenings,  before  they  are  taken  ?" 

"I  don't  know  as  there  is  any  hurry,"  replied  Mrs. 
White,  "  it  is  early  in  November  yet." 

"But  it's  going  to  be  very  gay  this  winter,"  said  Mrs. 
Therbert,  "and  do  our  best,  we  can't  have  them  ready 
before  the  twentieth." 

"  Well,  do  as  you  like,  you  and  Marie  are  to  make  all  of 
the  arrangements,  we  all  agreed  that  we  would  be  satisfied 
with  whatever  you  did,"  said  Mrs.  White. 

"  We  expect  you  to  lead  the  German  for  us,"  said  Mrs. 
Therbert,  turning  to  Mr.  Latimer,  "sometime  during  the 
winter;  now  don't  say  you  wont,  Mr.  Latimer,"  she 
exclaimed,  as  that  gentleman  shook  his  head  with  a  faint 
smile.  We  can't  lot  you  off.  You  led  that  one  so  beau- 
tifully last  winter,  and  now  that  dear  Marie  and  I  are 
responsible  for  all  the  parties  this  season,  we  want  to 
have  them  all  as  beautiful  as  possible." 

"You  must  not  depend  on  me,  Mrs.  Therbert,  it  will 
not  be  possible  for  me  to  serve  you  in  that  way,"  said 
Mr.  Latimer.  The  three  ladies  broke  out  in  a  chorus  of 
remonstrance,  that  was  swelled  by  Mr.  Therbert 's  bass 
voice. 

"  Of  course  he  will  do  it,"  said  Marie,  "  he  could  not  be 
so  ungracious,  I'll  answer  for  him." 

As  the  ladies  continued  their  talk,  Mrs.  Latimer  might 
have  doubted  her  abiJity  to  make  her  assurance  good,  had 
she  noticed,  and  been  able  to  interpret,  the  slight  drooping 
of  the  corners  of  her  husband's  mouth,  and  a  latent  flash 
in  his  eye.  At  half-past  ten,  Mrs.  White  rose  to  leave. 

"You  will  go  in  our  carriage,  wont  you,  Mrs.  White?" 
asked  Mrs.  Therbert,  rising  also. 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


273 


"Yes,  I  sent  mine  back,"  replied  Mrs.  White. 

Mr.  Latimer  bade  his  wife's  guests  good-night,  standing 
on  the  rug  before  the  fire.  Marie  accompanied  them  across 
the  room,  holding  the  portiere  aside  for  them,  with  her 
own  hand.  As  she  returned  to  the  fireside,  where  her 
husband  was  seated  with  an  open  magazine  in  his  hand, 
she  said:  "Let  us  go  to  bed,  Rodger,  I  know  it  is  early, 
but  I'm  tired  to  death." 

The  next  morning  as  Mr.  Latimer  came  from  the  stable, 
where  he  had  been  examining  a  saddle  horse  sent  him  for 
trial,  he  stepped  from  the  dining-room,  into  a  small  room 
that  opened  from  the  library  also,  that  contained  a  few 
books,  a  writing  table,  a  lounge,  and  an  easy  chair. 
Mrs.  Latimer  had  christened  this  room  Mr.  Latimer's 
study.  "  Here  you  can  be  alone  whenever  you  wish  to 
write  or  read  by  yourself,"  she  had  said  as  they  were 
looking  at  it  one  day,  when  making  their  first  tour  of  the 
house.  When  he  seated  himself  at  the  table  to  write  some 
letters,  he  was  not  aware  that  any  one  was  in  the  adjoining 
library,  from  which  he  was  separated  simply  by  a  curtain 
in  the  doorway.  Mrs.  Therbert  had  come  in  a  few 
moments  before,  and  was  waiting  the  entrance  of  Mrs. 
Latimer,  who  soon  entered. 

"I'm  delighted  to  see  you,  dear  Charlotte,"  she  said, 
"but  you're  late,  it's  nearly  eleven,  I've  been  expecting 
you  for  an  hour. " 

"I  intended  to  be  here  earlier,  but  I  really  did  not 
know  how  late  it  was,  we  can  get  through  by  luncheon. 
Does  Mr.  Latimer  lunch  at  home?  Lucas  never  does, 
and  I'm  glad  of  it,  it  is  all  I  can  do  to  endure  the  noise 
of  the  children.  Will  comes  home  from  kindergarten  just 
before  luncheon,  and  it  does  seem  as  though  he  would 
drive  me  crazy.  But  here  is  our  old  list  of  last  winter, 
and  it  needs  revising.  You  know  who  we  had  as  well  as 

18  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake. 


274 


RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


I  do,  for  Mrs.  White  always  told  us  that  she  consulted 
you  about  everything,  and  that  you  did  all  of  the  business 
for  her. " 

"  What  changes  do  you  think  we  better  make  in  the 
list?"  asked  Mrs.  Latimer. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  think,"  replied  Mrs.  Therbert.  "  I 
don't  know  as  you  will  agree  with  me,  but  we  have  too 
many  girls  down  there." 

"  That's  just  what  I  think,  we  need  more  men,  I  said 
so  to  Harriet  last  winter. " 

"You  see  the  trouble  last  winter  was,"  said  Mrs.  Ther- 
bert, "that  we  invited  some  girls  because  we  wished  for 
their  brothers. " 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer,  "let  us  strike  the  girls' 
names  right  off." 

"Will  the  brothers  come?"  asked  Mrs.  Therbert.  "Now 
here  is  Mr.  Lingral,  he  is  a  splendid  fellow,  and  a  fine 
dancer,  we  can't  afford  to  lose  him;  but  what  of  his 
sister?  will  he  come  if  we  drop  her?" 

"Yes,  he'll  come  fast  enough,  leave  him  to  me,"  said 
Mrs.  Latimer.  / 

"Oh,  Marie,"  replied  Mrs.  Therbert,  "  he  can't  resist 
you,  can  he,  I  wish  I  had  your  eyes, 'dear. " 

"  Nonsense,  Charlotte,  I  don't  know  why  you  should 
wish  to  be  in  any  way  different  from  what  you  are; 
your  card  is  always  full,  the  young  men  flock  around 
you.  I  never  saw  you  sit  a  dance  through." 

"I  do  usually  have  a  good  time;  that's  true,"  said 
Mrs.  Therbert. 

"You  married  ladies  always  had  a  better  time  than 
the  girls,  and  now  that  I  have  joined  your  ranks,  I  don't 
intend  to  take  a  back  seat,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer. 

"Marie!  how  much  attention  you  always  received, 
Lucas  said  he  never  saw  you  look  as  well  as  you  did  last 


RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 


275 


night.  What  a  glorious  winter  you  are  going  to  have!  I 
declare,  I  envy  you;  I  was  rallying  Colonel  Moran  the 
other  day  about  his  attention  to  Miss  Montford,  and  he 
quite  resented  it.  He  said  that  no  man  of  appreciative 
taste  could  be  won  by  the  girls,  from  the  married  ladies 
of  Clinton.  I  wont  tell  you  what  he  said  particularly 
about  you,  it  would  make  you  too  vain." 

"Colonel  Moran  is  charming,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer.  "I 
saw  a  great  deal  of  him  when  we  were  in  Saratoga,  and 
in  Newport  I  was  out  with  him  every  day.  He  is  simply 
delightful,  he  has  such  an  enchanting  way  of  devoting 
himself  to  you." 

"  He  told  me  you  were  the  most  beautiful  woman  in 
Newport,"  said  Mrs.  Therbert. 

"That  was  very  good  of  him.  He  certainly  was  very 
kind  to  me  there,  and  made  my  time  pass  delightfully ; 
but  now  this  list,  Charlotte." 

"  Let  us  go  over  it  name  by  name,  and  see  who  to 
strike  off,  and  then  we  will  see  if  we  can't  think  of 
some  new  men.  Do  you  know  of  any?" 

"Yes,  there  are  two  I  know  of.  How  many  balls  shall 
we  have?" 

"We  ought  to  have  four,"  said  Mrs.  Therbert,  "or 
three,  and  a  german ;  say  Marie,  wont  Mr.  Latimer  lead 
our  german  ?" 

"Certainly  he  will,"  replied  Mrs.  Latimer. 

"  I  thought  that  he  meant  what  he  said  last  night,  when 
he  refused,  he  looked  so  determined,"  said  Mrs.  Ther- 
bert. 

"  It  don't  make  any  difference  what  he  said,  he  will 
do  it,  I  can  persuade  him,"  replied  Mrs.  Latimer. 

"  It  would  be  dreadful  if  you  couldn't  persuade  him, 
he  is  such  a  fine  dancer;  we  couldn't  get  any  one  who 
would  do  it  half  so  well.  Suppose  I  talk  to  him  about 


276  RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE 

it  some  time  when  I  see  him,  a  man  will  do  so  much 
more  for  any  other  woman  than  he  will  for  his  wife." 

"I  can  manage  Rodger,  perfectly,  don't  have  any 
anxiety  about  the  german,  Charlotte.  By  the  way,  have 
you  seen  Grey  Whitridge  since  his  return,  or  hasn't  he 
returned  yet?" 

"  Yes,  he  came  day  before  yesterday,  and  I  never  saw 
him  looking  better.  We  had  quite  a  talk  at  the  theater, 
it  was  a  miserable  play,  but  we  can't  expect  anything 
good  at  this  season;  I  was  glad  you  weren't  there.  I 
wouldn't  have  gone,  only  there  was  nothing  going  on, 
and  I  could  not  bear  to  stay  home.  Mr.  Whitridge  in- 
quired for  you  the  first  thing;  what  should  we  do  with- 
out him  in  society?" 

"He  is  certainly  a  fascinating  man,"  replied  Mrs. 
Latimer.  "  I  don't  know  any  one  who  could  take  his 
place,  he  can  do  anything,  he's  so  versatile." 

"Yes,  he  is,"  said  Mrs.  Therbert,  "but  we  must  at- 
tend to  this  list/'  The  ladies  set  themselves  to  work  tak- 
ing each  name  under  consideration,  and  weighing  care- 
. fully  the  social  merits  of  each,  but  paying  special 
attention  to  the  claims  of  several  new  men,  they  had 
in  their  minds.  By  the  time  they  had  finished  their  con- 
sultation, Mr.  Latimer — who  never  for  one  moment 
thought  that  his  wife  had  a  purpose,  or  a  sentiment, 
that  she  wished  to  conceal  from  him,  and  to  whom  the 
idea  never  suggested  itself,  that  she  could  have  the 
slightest  objection  to  his  hearing  every  word  spoken 
between  her  and  her  acquaintances — had  a  pretty  defi- 
nite understanding  of  the  ambitions  and  purposes  of  the 
two  ladies,  at  least  as  far  as  the  dancing  class  was 
concerned. 

Mr.  Latimer's  dreams  of  a  quiet  home  life,  evenings 
alone  with  his  beautiful  wife,  were  not  realized.  Although 


RODGER    LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


277 


the  social  season  had  not  begun,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lati- 
mer  were  never  for  an  evening  alone  in  their  home. 
Either  some  of  Mrs.  Latimer's  friends  would  drop  in, 
or  they  were  invited  to  some  house,  where  Mrs.  Lati- 
mer  was  anxious  to  go.  There  were  several  clubs,  mak- 
ing their  arrangements  for  the  winter,  of  which  the 
wealthy  and  beautiful  Mrs.  Latimer  was  considered  as 
an  indispensable  member.  One  evening  when  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Latimer  were  at  Mrs.  White's  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Le- 
farve  came  in. 

"We  have  been  to  your  house  to  see  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Lefarve  to  Mrs.  Latimer,  after  greetings  had  been  given 
and  received  between  all  present,  "  and  your  man  said 
that  you  were  here,  so  Mr.  Lefarve  suggested  we  follow 
you." 

"I  ought  to  have  seen  you  before,  Mrs.  Latimer,"  said 
Mr.  Lefarve,  "but  really  I  have  not  been  able  to  find  you 
at  home,  although  I  have  fairly  haunted  your  house.  We 
are  forming  a  Histrionic  club,  and  we  all  feel  that  it  will 
be  incomplete  unless  you  give  us  the  benefit  of  your  talent 
and  experience. " 

"A  Histrionic  club!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  White.  "That  is 
something  new;  it  will  be  delightful.  Do  tell  us  all 
about  it,  Mr.  Lefarve." 

"It's  a  club  for  parlor  theatricals.  We  shall  play  in 
our  own  home  theaters  first,  but  some  of  the  ambitious 
members  hope  that  we  may  become  so  proficient  that  the 
latter  part  of  the  season  we  may  rent  a  small  theater,  and 
put  our  plays  on  the  stage  for  charitable  purposes." 

"Oh,  it  will  be  lovely!  Mrs.  Latimer,"  cried*  Mrs. 
Lefarve.  "  You  must  join  us.  We  can't  make  a  success 
without  you;  we  specially  count  on  you  and  Mr.  Whit- 
ridgje." 

"I  shall  be"  delighted    to  become  a  member,"  replied 


278  RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 

Mrs.  Latimer,  as  her  eyes  sparkled  with  pleasure,  "but  I 
fear  I  can  bring  neither  talent  or  experience  to  aid  you." 

"We  shall  be  sure  of  both  if  you  will  join  us,"  replied 
Mr.  Lefarve,  and  he  continued,  turning  to  Mr.  Latimer, 
"Surely  we  can  count  on  you,  Mr.  Latimer?" 

"I  fear  not,"  said  Mr.  Latimer.  "  I  have  no  admiration 
of  parlor  theatricals,  and  certainly  have  no  talent  that 
could  be  utilized  that  way." 

"Now,  Rodger,  that's  not  handsome,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
White,  "  you  ought  to  join  on  Marie's  account,  even  if 
you  don't  like  them;  it  will  be  so  much  pleasanter  for 
her. " 

"Really,  Harriet,"  said  Mr.  Latimer  in  reply  to  Mrs. 
White,  "  I  don't  see  where  Marie  is  to  find  time  for 
another  club;  it  seems  to  me  that  she  already  has  engage- 
ments enough  to  occupy  every  hour  between  this  and  next 
May." 

Mr.  White  burst  into  a  good-natured  laugh.  "You 
don't  know  these  women  as  well  as  I  do,  Rodger,"  he 
said.  "I've  had  ten  years'  experience;  they  will  do  more 
things  and  go  to  more  places  than  you  have  any  idea  of. 
It  would  kill  most  men  to  do  what  these  society  women 
do.  Marie'll  find  time;  if  she  can't,  Harriet  here  will 
help  her." 

"James,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  talk  so;  what  will 
Mr.  Lefarve  think  of  you?"  said  Mrs.  White,  laugh- 
ingly. 

"  Mr.  Lefarve  knows  every  word  of  it's  true.  Three 
engagements  a  day  are  nothing  for  you  and  Mrs.  Le- 
farve," said  Mr.  White.  "Rodger  may  not  be  able  to 
find  time,  but  Marie  will,  for  every  club,  and  opera,  and 
ball  that  comes  along.  No  use  saying  anything,  Rodger; 
we  shall  have  to  fall  into  line.  It's  a  doleful*  prospect, 
think  of  the  number  of  stupid  dinners  -and  jams  we 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


279 


shall  have  to  go  to  before  Lent,  think  of  the  tubs  of 
things  we  shall  have  to  eat!"  Mr.  White  laid  his  hand 
on  his  stomach  with  a  wry  face  that  set  them  all  laugh- 
ing. "  And  the  dances  are  the  worst.  Harriet  and  Marie 
dragged  me  out  last  winter,  and  then  told  me  how  rude  I 
was  to  sit  and  talk  with  the  men  instead  of  dancing.  I 
was  kept  dancing  until  I  thought  I  should  drop  dead.  I 
told  them  one  night  to  take  as  an  excuse  that  I  was 
dead,  and  couldn't  go.  You'll  reap  the  result,  Rodger, 
of  your  folly  in  getting  married  before  spring.  It  makes 
every  bone  in  my  body  ache  to  think  of  what  I've  got  to 
go  through.  Join  the  club  graciously,  Rodger,  you'll 
have  to  do  it  in  the  end,  you've  mortgaged  yourself." 

"What  a  ridiculous  tirade,  James,"  said  Mrs.  White. 
"Any  one  would  suppose  you  didn't  like  society." 

"And  I  don't,"  broke  in  Mr.  White. 

"And  were  forced  against  your  will  to  go,"  continued 
Mrs.  White,  not  noticing  his  interruption,  "when  the 
truth  is  you  are  always  ready  to  go — " 

"Never!  never!"  exclaimed  Mr.  White. 

"Well,  Rodger,'  said  Mrs.  White,  turning  to  Mr.  Lati- 
mer,  "I  hope  you  will  not  be  influenced  by  James' talk, 
and  will  join  the  club  with  Marie." 

Mr.  Latimer's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  his  wife's  face,  on 
which  he  saw  an  expression  as  she  gazed  steadily  at  him, 
that  arrested  the  assertion  that  he  could  not  possibly  do 
so,  that  was  on  his  lips,  and  caused  him  to  reply  that  he 
would  be  most  happy  to  do  anything  that  Mrs.  Latimer 
desired. 

As  he  entered  his  bedroom  some  hours  afterward  he 
threw  himself  in  an  easy  chair  before  the  fire  and  drew  a 
small  rocking-chair  close  to  his  side,  as  he  said: 

"Come,  love,  and  sit  here  awhile;  I  wish  to  talk  with 
you." 


28o  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"Why,  Rodger,  it's  past  twelve,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer,  as 
she  stood  by  the  bureau  taking  the  pins  from  her  hair. 
"It's  time  we  were  asleep." 

"No  matter  what  time  it  is  Marie,  I  wish  to  talk  with 
you  for  a  few  minutes,"  said  Mr.  Latimer,  in  a  decisive 
tone,  which  his  wife  had  never  heard  from  him  before 
when  addressing  her.  She  turned  her  head  and  looked  at 
him,  as  he  sat  with  his  back  toward  her,  hesitated  a 
moment,  then  shook  her  long  hair  down  over  her  shoulders 
and  crossed  the  room,  and  took  the  low  chair  he  had 
placed  for  her.  She  did  not  look  at  him,  but  gazed 
straight  into  the  fire.  Returned  his  head  and  regarded 
her  intently  for  a  moment,  then  he  reached  his  arm  behind 
her  chair,  and  passed  his  hand  down  the  length  of.  her 
beautiful  hair,  that  hung  over  the  back  of  the  chair. 

"  How  beautiful  you  are  to-night,  love,  in  that  white 
dress,  you  look  as  you  did  at  the  theater'  the  first  night  I 
fell  in  love  with  you,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  as  he  again 
passed  his  hand  the  length  of  her  hair.  He  looked  into 
her  face,  but  her  eyes  were  not  raised  to  his,  nor  did  she 
return  any  recognition  of  his  caress.  After  a  few  moments' 
silence,  he  asked: 

"  Do  you  really  intend  to  join  that  Histrionic  club, 
Marie  ?" 

"  Why  certainly  I  do,  Rodger,  I  think  that's  a  strange 
question  to  ask  me,  after  the  talk  that  you  heard  between 
Mr.  Lefarve  and  myself  at  Harriet's." 

"  And  you  expect  to  be  an  active  member,  and  take  part 
in  the  plays?"  asked  Mr.  Latimer. 

"Most  certainly  I  do,  if  I  join,"  replied  Mrs.  Latimer. 

"But  Marie,  you  know  I  dislike  theatricals,  I  wish  you 
would  not  join  the  club. "  Mrs.  Latimer  made  no  reply, 
and  he  continued,  "  I  cannot  take  part  in  those — worse 
than  nonsensical  things." 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  281 

"You  need  not  join  if  you  do  not  choose  to,"  said  Mrs. 
Latimer. 

"Will  you  join  if  I  do  not?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  in  a 
decided  tone.  There  was  a  long  silence.  She  was  think- 
ing, "  I  may  as  well  make  a  stand  now  as  any  time,  and 
have  it  over,  once  for  all."  He  was  thinking  of  the  time 
the  winter  before,  when  he  had  requested  her  to  leave  the 
play,  that  these  same  people  were  putting  upon  the  stage 
in  Mrs.  Von  Stein's  theater,  and  the  sweet  way  in  which 
she  then  yielded  to  his  wishes.  An  awful  chasm  seemed 
opening  before  him,  out  of  which  a  terrible  specter  arose. 
With  an  intuition  quick  as  a  woman's,  his  mind  leaped 
to  the  conclusion,  "She  never  loved  me!"  then  immedi- 
ately came  the  recoil — "She  is  angry,  patience,  it  will  be 
all  right." 

"  Do  you  mean,  Marie,"  he  said  in  a  gentle  voice,"  that 
you  will  join  that  club,  and  take  part  in  those  theatricals, 
if  I  request  you  not  to  ?" 

"There  is  no  use  in  our  quarreling,  Rodger,"  she  re- 
plied in  a  hard,  determined  tone,  "but  do  you  think  you 
have  any  right  to  keep  me  from  joining  the  club?" 

"  It's  not  a  question  of  right,  my  wife,  I  hope  that 
question  will  never  be  raised  between  us;  that  it  will 
grieve  me  to  have  you  do  so,  should  be  sufficient.." 

"  But  it  will  deprive  me  of  great  pleasure  not  to  join," 
said  Mrs.  Latimer,  "and  why  should  I  give  up  this 
pleasure,  simply  on  account  of  a  whim  on  your  part?" 

An  angry  flush  rose  to  Mr.  Latimer's  brow;  he  opened 
his  lips  to  speak,  then  closed  them  again,  as  the  hot 
blood  receded  before  an  expression  of  pain.  "  It  is  not  a 
whim,  Marie,  but  a  settled  conviction,  a  long  standing 
dislike  of  that  form  of  amusement,"  he  said  in  a  slow, 
measured  way. 


282  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"Well,  and  you  think  that  I  should  conform  my  life  to 
your  narrow  views."  Again  the  hot  blood  surged  into 
Mr.  Latimer's  face.  "-Seems  to  me  we  should  each  be  our 
own  judge  of  what  we  wish  to  do,  and  do  it,  without 
interfering  with  each  other." 

"We  might  do  this,"  replied  Mr.  Latimer,  "  if  we  held 
no  personal  relation  to  each  other,  but  do  you  think 
husband  and  wife  can  live  happily  together  in  that  way?" 

"I  don't  see  why  they  can't,  it  seems  to  me  the  most 
"reasonable  way  to  live,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer,  "  it's  the  way 
James  and  Harriet  live,  and  I  am  sure  they  are  happy, 
he  never  interferes  with  her."  Mr.  Latimer  knew  that  few 
women  made  greater  effort  to  conform  to  their  husband's 
notions  and  wishes,  than  did  Mrs.  White,  but  he  did  not 
care  just  then  to  correct  his  wife's  assertion.  "  I  am 
sure,"  she  continued,  "we  shall  not  be  happy  if  we  are 
constantly  finding  fault  with  each  other,  and  preventing 
each  other  from  doing  those  things  that  we  each  wish  to 
do,  and  find  happiness  in  doing.  We  have  done  very  well 
thus  far,  why  shouldn't  we  keep  on  as  we  have  begun. 
We  have  been  very  happy  until  now." 

"Marie,  listen  to  rrfe  a  moment,"  said  Mr.  Latimer  in 
a  grave  voice,  "  how  have  we  lived  since  we  were  married  ? 
I'm  not  finding  fault,  but  what  has  our  life  been?  simply 
one  of  excitement  and  society.  How  little  we  have  seen 
of  each  other;  it  was  all  right,  we  had  to  take  a  wedding 
trip  I  suppose;  and  we  chose  to  make  the  round  of  those 
noisy  watering  places.  You  are  a  beautiful  woman,  and 
naturally  attracted  attention;  I  was  glad  to  see  that  you 
enjoyed  yourself,  I  was  happy  in  seeing  you  happy;  but  I 
soon  grew  tired  of  living  in  a  crowd,  I  wanted  my  wife 
to  myself.  I  had  married  a  woman  that  I  loved,  and  it 
was  not  enough  for  me  to  stand  one  side,  and  see  her 
dancing  and  walking  and  driving  with  other  men;  but 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  283 

that  seemed  the  only  possible  way  then,  and  so  I  consoled 
myself  with  the  thought  that  when  we  were  settled  in  our 
own  home,  it  would  all  be  changed.  But  how  has  it  been, 
since  we  have  been  settled  in  this  house?  in  the  six  weeks 
that  we  have  been  keeping  house,  we  have  not  had  two 
evenings  to  ourselves,  and  in  those,  you  were  so  tired 
out,  you  had  to  go  to  bed.  Now  do  you  call  this  a  happy 
life?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  replied  Mrs.  Latimer,  "I  think  we've  had 
a  beautiful  life  since  we  were  married.  I  would  like  to 
go  back  and  live  it  all  over  again." 

"Two  thousand  years  of  such  a  life  wouldn't  amount 
to  anything,"  said  Mr.  Latimer. 

"  How  can  you  say  such  a  thing,  Rodger,  you  have  had 
everything  to  make  you  happy." 

"Have  I?  I  don't  think  so.  It  must  be,  Marie,  that 
our  ideas  of  happiness  differ  somewhat,  and  it  would  be 
unfortunate  if.  that  were  so." 

"I  don't  know  that  my  ideas  on  the  subject  are  at  all 
peculiar,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer,  "that  they  are  at  all  differ- 
ent from  other  people's,  it  seems  a  very  simple  question." 

"A  question  of  what?  balls,  and  dinners,  and  operas, 
and  theatricals?"  asked  Mr.  Latimer  in  a  sarcastic  tone. 

"Yes,  and  the  balls,  and  dinners,  and  operas,  and 
theatricals  of  which  you  speak  so  contemptuously,  are  all 
delightful  things,  and  add  a  great  deal  to  life.  I'm  sure 
life  is  very  stupid  without  them,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer. 

"Well  Marie,  what  of  the  home  life?" 

"  We  have  a  beautiful  home,  and  I  can't  see  why  we 
cannot  be  happy  in  it,  I'm  sure  I  am." 

"You  are  in  it  very  little,  my  dear;  not  in  it  at  all,  I 
might  say,  without  some  of  your  friends  around  you. 
We  are  scarcely  through  breakfast,  before  some  one  is 
here,  and  then  we  do  not  have  an  hour  to  ourselves  until 
bedtime." 


284  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"What  do  you  wish,  Rodger?  you  complain  about  my 
friends  coming  here  to  see  me,  and  about  my  going  to 
their  houses  to  see  them,  and  dislike  the  dancing  class, 
and  the  Histrionic  club;  what  would  you  wish  me  to  do?" 

"  No,  Marie,  I  am  very  glad  to  have  you  see  your 
friends  here,  and  see  them  in  their  own  homes,  but  I  do 
not  like  to  have  people  in  our  house  so  much  that  we  have 
no  life  together;  to  the  extent  that  the  privacy  of  home  is 
utterly  destroyed." 

"What  do  you  wish  to  do,  and  have  me  do?"  asked 
Mrs.  Latimer,  "sit  stupidly  around  this  house  doing 
nothing?" 

Mr.  Latimer  was  fast  losing  his  patience,  but  controlled 
himself  well  as  he  replied:  "  I  would  like  it,  if  we  could 
drive  together  sometimes,  and  have  half  of  our  evenings 
say,  alone  together  for  reading." 

"  I'm  sure  we  do  drive  pleasant  days, "  said  Mrs  Latimer. 

"Yes,  in  your  fashionable  hour,  taking  our  place  in  the 
procession  with  hundreds  behind  us.  That  s  no  pleasure 
compared  to  a  drive  alone  with  each  other,  in  the  morning, 
in  the  quiet  park." 

"  I  cannot  see,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer,  "what  pleasure  you 
find  wandering  around  that  park  alone,  and  in  the  woods 
beyond.  There  is  some  excitement  in  going  in  the  driv- 
ing hour;  and  as  to  our  having  our  evenings  alone,  what 
should  we  do?  It's  natural  for  people  to  love  society. 
I'm  sure  I  would  like  to  please  you,  Rodger,  but  you 
know  we  would  find  such  evenings  dull.  I  don't  like 
books,  and  I  do  like  society."  Mrs.  Latimer's  voice  was 
kind,  almost  pathetic,  as  she  said  this,  and  the  tone 
touched  her  husband's  heart.  He  placed  his  arm  around 
her  shoulders,  resting  his  hand  on  the  soft  dark  hair  as  it 
enveloped  her,  and  strove  to  draw  her  toward  him.  "  My 
love,  I  know  you  wish  to  please  me,"  he  said,  "and  you 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE 


-285 


know  that  I  love  you  dearly,  don't  let  us  waste  our  lives 
on  society,  when  we  might  find  such  happiness  in  each 
other."  But  Marie  withstood  the  pressure  of  his  hand, 
and  retained  her  bolt  upright  position.  She  neither 
turned  her  head  toward  his,  that  was  bent  low  near  her, 
nor  in  any  way  showed  that  she  was  aware  of  his  warmth 
of  feeling.  After  a  few  moments  of  silence,  Mr.  Lat- 
imer  raised  his  hand  from  her  shoulder,  and  as  he  laid  it 
on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  said  in  a  voice,  low  toned  with 
emotion : 

"We  do  not  seem  to  think  quite  alike  about  these 
matters,  so  all  we  can  do,  is  to  harmonize  our  action  the 
best  we  can." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Rodger, what  do  you  mean?" 

"  That  we  must  decide  upon  some  consistent  course  of 
conduct,  and  adhere  to  it.  I  suppose  that  each  of  us 
may  have  to  give  up  our  wishes  somewhat.'' 

"1  don't  know  what  there  is  to  decide,  our  life  is 
decided  for  us  by  the  position  we  are  in,  and  I  am  sure  I 
do  not  expect  you  to  sacrifice  your  wishes  to  me,  and  I 
don't  see  what  there  is  that  lean  possibly  give  up." 
Mrs.  Latimer  crossed  her  slippered  feet  before  the  fire  and 
clasped  her  jeweled  hands  in  her  lap. 

"You  spoke  of  the  dancing  class  a  few  moments  ago," 
said  Mr.  Latimer.  "I  was  gratified  that  your  sister  and. 
Mrs.  Edmunds  wished  you  to  be  one  of  the  patronesses,  it 
is  really  a  compliment  to  you,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to 
attend  the  dances  with  you,  but  Marie,  you  must  not 
expect  me  to  lead  your  german." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  very  unkind  of  you  to  refuse, 
Rodger,  and  your  doing  so  would  place  me  in  a  very 
unpleasant  position,  for  I  have  assured  Mrs.  Edmunds  and 
Mrs.  Therbert  that  you  would  lead  it." 

"Why  did   you  do  that?"  asked  Mr.    Latimer;  "you 


286  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

remember  I  declined,  the  very  first  evening  that  Mrs. 
Therbert  spoke  of  it." 

"I  didn't  suppose  that  you  were  serious  in  what  you 
said." 

"Do  I  usually  speak  without  a  purpose,  and  not  mean 
what  1  say?" 

"I  knew  that  yo_u  were  perfectly  willing  to  lead  the 
german  at  Mrs.  Richmond's  last  winter,"  said  Mrs.  Lat- 
imer, "  and  every  one  said  that  your  figures  were  beautiful ; 
how  did  I  know  that  you  had  changed  your  mind,  and  did 
not  wish  to  lead  this  one?" 

"Only  because  I  said  that  I  did  not,"  replied  Mr.  Lat- 
imer,  as  he  leaned  his  head  back  wearily  against  his  chair. 
"  i  was  pleased  to  lead  that  german  last  winter,  but  it 
don't  take  long  to  satisfy  a  man  with  that  sort  of  thing. 
Last  winter  seems  ten  years  off." 

"I'm  sure  Rodger,  that  you  will  not  refuse,  now  that 
the  matter  has  gone  so  far." 

"No,  I  presume  that  I  shall  not,"  he  replied  in  a  hard, 
dry  tone,  "  but  Marie,  let  us  understand  plainly  about 
these  theatricals." 

"  What  is  there  to  understand  ?  I  have  promised  to  join 
the  club,  there  is  not  the  least  harm  in  it,  and  there  is  a 
great  deal  of  pleasure  in  it;  you  need  not  join  it,  if  you 
do  not  choose." 

"  If  I  decline  to  join  that  club,  Marie,  will  you  become 
a  member,  and  take  part  in  these  plays?" 

"  I  have  said  that  I  would,  and  I  don't  see  why  I  should 
not,"  replied  Mrs.  Latimer. 

"  As  a  matter  of  course,  that  settles  the  question  for  me. 
As  much  as  I  dislike  the  whole  thing,  I  shall  join  the 
club;  I  never  shall  be  an  active  member."  Mr.  Latimer 
did  not  see  the  smile  that  curled  the  corners  of  his  wife's 
mouth,  as  he  bravely  made  this  assertion,  "  but  I  have  too 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  287 

great  a  regard  for  you,  and  for  my  dignity  as  your  hus- 
band, to  have  my  young  wife  going  to  those  rehearsals 
without  the  protecting  presence  of  her  husband."  Marie 
was  silent,  and  after  a  moment  Mr.  Latimer  continued: 
"  It  seems  that  our  life  is  decided  for  us,  I  have  very  little 
to  say  about  mine."  Then  turning  suddenly  toward  his 
wife,  as  he  leaned  forward  resting  ope  hand  on  his  knee, 
he  said: 

"  Do  you  know,  Marie,  what  all  of  this  leads  to  ?  we  are 
casting  from  us  the  holiest  thing  on  earth;  and  that  is  a 
home.  You  and  1  ought  to  weave  about  ourselves  a 
perfect  life,  from  the  love  we  have  for  each  other,  our 
books,  and  the  leisure  we  have  for  reading,  and  the 
friends  we  could  bring  around  us;  and  we  would  grow  to 
love  the  same  things,  and  would  go  on  through  life,  lov- 
ing each  other  better  every  year,  and  being  happier  every 
year.  But  don't  you  see  that  if  we  lead  the  life  that  you 
seem  to  be  marking  out,  we  shall  only  eat  and  sleep  in 
this  house,  it  will  be  full  of  people  half  of  the  time,  and 
the  other  half  we  shall  be  in  a  crowd;  men  and  women 
will  come  between  us,  our  interests  will  be  different,  and 
our  aims  different;  God  only  knows  what  the  end  will  be. 
It  seems  a  hollow,  superficial  life  to  me.  So  different 
from  what  I  dreamed  my  home  would  be,"  he  added, 
impetuously,  as  he  rose  to  his  feet,  and  rested  one  hand 
on  the  mantel,  as  he  gazed  into  the  fire.  Marie  said 
nothing,  but  kept  her  eyes  steadily  fixed  on  the  toes  of 
her  slippers.  Mr.  Latimer  looked  down  at  her,  but  the 
expression,  that  was  half  anger  and  ha^f  pain,  did  not 
soften  as  he  gazed  upon  her  face.  After  awhile  she  said 
in  an  indifferent  tone: 

"Have  you  anything  more  that  you  wish  to  say,  Rodger?" 
There  was  a  moment's  hesitation  on  his  part,  then  he 
replied  in  a  tone  equally  indifferent: 


288  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"No." 

She  quietly  rose  from  her  chair,  and  as  quietly  moved 
about  the  room  preparing  for  bed.  Mr.  Latimer's  eyes 
followed  her  movements  fora  few  minutes,  as  he' stood 
with  his  back  to  the  fire,  then  he  re-seated  himself  in  the 
large  chair,  and  leaning  his  head  back,  closed  his  eyes. 

As  Mrs.  Latimer  settled  herself  in  bed,  she  said:  "  It's 
late,  Rodger,  are  you  not  coming  to  bed?" 

"After  a  little,"  he  replied  in  a  tone  of  unnatural  con- 
straint, "  I  presume  I  shall  not  disturb  you,  if  I  sit  here 
awhile." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

As  the  winter  advanced,  the  stream  of  society  became  a 
maelstrom.  It  was  a  rapid  whirl  of  dinners,  balls,  re- 
ceptions, operas  and  theaters;  a  bewildering  kaleidoscopic 
view  of  beautiful  women,  flashing  jewels,  choice  costumes, 
and  lovely  flowers,  under  brilliant  lights,  moving  to  rare 
music.  And  everywhere  the  central  figure  was  the  beau- 
tiful Mrs.  Latimer.  Her  personal  beauty,  the  richness  of 
her  dress,  and  her  elaborate  entertainments,  were  the  talk 
of  all  of  her  friends.  She  never  seemed  to  weary,  but 
filled  several  engagements  every  day  with  perennial  fresh- 
ness, and  unflagging  gayety.  She  became  the  fashion, 
and  therefore  was  carried  on  the  shoulders  of  society. 
While  she  was  intoxicated  by  her  elevation,  and  everyday 
added  to  the  zest  of  the  enjoyment,  she  kept  her  balance 
and  conducted  herself  with  the  caution  of  an  old  society 
expert.  Every  move  on  the  social  board  was  made  with 
shrewdness.  The  capital  of  her  own  good  looks,  and  her 
husband's  wealth,  she  used  to  such  advantage,  that  her 
popularity  steadily  increased,  and  she  was  constantly 
surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  admiring  men  and,womeri,  who 
fed  her  vanity  by  the  most  fulsome  flattery.  The  mature 
women,  who  for  years  had  been  the  accepted  authority  in 
Clinton  society,  did  not  quite  like  to  pay  court  to  so 
young  a  woman,  but  found  it  necessary  to  do  so,  as  she 
could  draw  from  them  at  any  time,  the  men  they  most 
desired  to  grace  their  dinners,  or  give  attraction  to  their 
dancing  rooms.  The  girls,  who  were  looking  out  from 
under  the  wings  of  their  chaperones,  thought  Mrs.  Latimer 
the  most  fortunate  being  in  the  universe.  The  old  men 
feared  that  she  was  going  too  fast,  while  the  younger  men 

19  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake.     (289) 


290  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

all  agreed  with  Grey  Whitridge,  who  declared  one  day  at 
his  club,"  that  he  feared  he  had  been  a  fool  for  permitting 
Rodger  Latimer  to  carry  off  Marie  Edwards,"  adding: 
"By  Jove!  she  has  the  figure  of  a  Venus." 

Mr.  Latimer  was  spoken  of  as  a  most  devoted  husband, 
so  much  in  love  with  his  wife  that  he  could  not  bear  to 
have  her  out  of  his  sight,  and  was  held  up  as  a  model  for 
imitation,,  by  pleasure-loving  wives,  when  their  weary 
husbands  intimated  that  it  would  be  well  to  send  "  re- 
grets" to  certain  invitations,  the  acceptance  of  which 
would  necessitate  unusually  late  hours.  "  Look  at  Mr. 
Latimer,"  said  one  lady,  "he  goes  everywhere  with  his 
wife,  and  how  agreeable  and  pleasant  he  always  is."  And 
this  was  the  impression  that  Mr.  Latimer  wished  to  pro- 
duce. He  had  not  been  deaf  to  remarks,  made  among 
men  at  the  clubs,  regarding  some  women,  who  were  fre- 
quently seen  in  society  unattended  by  their  husbands, 
and  he  had  a  morbid  fear  of  such  things  being  said  of  his 
wife.  He  determined,  that  at  all  hazards  the  public 
should  see  nothing  to  talk  about  in  his  domestic  matters. 
He  found  himself  in  a  very  unsettled  state  of  mind.  His 
castle  in  the  air — of  four  walls  of  a  home  shutting  out  the 
world,  and  shutting  in  himself  and  the  beautiful  Marie — 
had  fallen  with  a  crash.  In  place  of  a  quiet  life  with  a 
beautiful  woman  whom  he  loved,  he  found  himself  dragged 
from  one  place  to  another,  and  forced  every  day  to  meet 
people  with  whom  he  had  nothing  in  common,  and  even 
those  that  he  positively  disliked.  His  early  life  as  a  con- 
scientious student,  had  developed  habits  of  regularity  and 
industry,  and  being  naturally  a  reflecting  man,  he  had 
learned  to  love  books.  Possessing  such  habits  and  tastes, 
the  ceaseless  round  of  dances,  card  parties,  dinners  and 
operas,  acted  on  him  as  nervous  irritants.  All  regular 
habits  were  broken  up,  he  never  knew  at  what  time  he 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


291 


would  be  able  to  go  to  bed,  and  with  some  difficulty  kept 
track  of  the  places  where  his  evenings  were  to  be  passed. 
He  would  have  divided  his  time  mostly  between  his  clubs 
and  his  library,  had  it  not  been  that  he  stood  too  much  in 
fear  of  public  opinion,  to  leave  his  wife  dependent  for  an 
escort  upon  her  many  gentlemen  friends,  who  stood  ready 
to  do  her  bidding.  He  would^  at  times,  sit  with  Mr. 
White  through  a  quiet  evening,  when  Mrs.  White  and 
Marie  were  at  the  theater,  but  usually  he  claimed  a  place 
in  her  box,  and  was  somewhere  in  the  background  of  all 
of  her  parties  and  balls.  As  the  winter  wore  on,  he  be- 
came impressed  with  the  idea,  that  his  wife- would  will- 
ingly dispense  with  his  presence  at  many  places  of  gaiety. 

"  Do  not  go  out  this  evening,  Rodger,  if  you  are  not 
feeling  well,"  she  said  to  him  one  evening  immediately 
after  dinner,  when  for  the  first  time  for  weeks,  they  had 
dined  at  their  own  table  alone.  "  Mrs.  Edmunds  is  to 
stop  here.  I  can  go  in  her  carriage,  if  you  prefer  to  remain 
at  home." 

"Who  will  be  in  the  carriage?"  asked  Mr.  Latimer. 

After  a  moment's  hesitation,  Marie  replied:  "Mr. 
Edmunds  and  Colonel  Moran  are  to  be  with  her,  I  be- 
lieve; I  can  go  down  with  them,  and  they  can  leave  me 
here  as  they  return,  it  won't  be  a  block  out  of  their  way, 
you  know." 

"I  prefer  going  with  you,"  Mr.  Latimer  replied;  "I'll 
order  the  carriage  round.  Perhaps  you  better  put  on  your 
wraps,"  he  added,  as  he  touched  the  bell  for  the  carriage. 

"Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer,  "do  as  you  like;  you 
know  it  is  Modjeska  'in  Odette  to-night.  I  know  you 
don't  like  Odette,  and  it's  not  very  pleasant  for  me  to  feel 
that  you  are  making  a  martyr  of  yourself  on  my  account." 

"  There  is  no  reason  for  you  to  say  that  I'm  making  a 
martyr  of  myself,  Marie,  I'm  doing  exactly  what  I  wish  to. " 


292  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"Which  is  to  persevere  in  your  espionage,"  said  Marie, 
spitefully. 

"  Mrs.  Latimer,  that  is  an  unbecoming  speech  for  you 
to  make,"  said  Mr.  Latimer,  as  his  lips  drew  in  rigid 
lines.  "Do  you  wish  to  go  in  society  without  me?" 

Mrs.  Latimer  was  standing  beside  a  table  selecting  from 
a  vase  of  roses,  those  she  wished  to  wear,  and  as  she 
twined  the  stems  together,  she  replied: 

"  It's  unpleasant  to  be  shadowed  by  one's  husband  to 
that  extent  that  remarks  are  made  about  it,  especially,  as 
I  know  that  more  than  half  of  the  time  you  go  for  no 
other  purpose  than  to  be  near  me." 

"It  has  come  to  a  pretty  pass,  if  the  fact  of  a  husband 
accompanying  his  wife  to  a  place  of  amusement  gives 
cause  for  remark,"  said  Mr.  Latimer,  "and  shows  that  in 
such  society,  there  is  reason  that  she  should  be  thus 
accompanied.  If  I  do  go,  just  to  be  near  you,  it's  a  pre- 
caution for  which  you  should  feel  thankful.  I  should 
think  a  woman  could  see  Odette,  with  full  as  much  sense 
of  propriety  if  seated  by  her  husband,  as  when  surrounded 
by  her  gentlemen  friends." 

Mrs.  Latimer  made  no  reply,  and  Mr.  Latimer  seriously 
thought,  for  a  moment,  of  asserting  his  authority,  artd 
declaring  that  they  would  both  stay  at  home;  but  the 
prospect  of  an  evening  alone  together  in  their  present 
moods  was  not  very  inviting,  and  then  he  felt  that  Marie 
would  not  quietly  submit  to  such  a  requirement.  So  he 
rose,  as  a  maid  entered,  and  announced  that  the  carriage 
was  at  the  door.  "It's  time  to  go,"  he  said. 

"We  better  wait  until  the  Edmunds  come,"  said  Mrs. 
Latimer,  without  looking  up  from  her  roses. 

"Xo,"  replied  Mr.  Latimer,  "we  will  go  on.  "Standish 
can  tell  them  we  have  gone,  and  they  can  follow  us." 

Mrs.  Latimer  went  upstairs  for  her  cloak,  Mr.  Latimer 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


293 


stepped  into  the  hall,  put  on  his  overcoat  and  returned, 
hat  in  hand,  to  the  library,  to  wait  her  coming,  where  he 
sat  gloomily  watching  the  clock.  Fifteen  minutes  had 
passed,  when  he  heard  voices  in  the  hall.  He  found  on 
going  into  the  hall,  that  the  butler  had  admitted  Colonel 
Moran,  who  had  his  eyes  fixed  upon  Mrs.  Latimer,  as  she 
was  descending  the  stairs. 

"This  is  very  kind,  Colonel  Moran,"  she  said,  as  she 
came  toward  him  in  her  queenly  beauty,  "but  Mr.  Latimer 
is  feeling  better,  and  has  decided  to  go  with  us,  our  car- 
riage is  waiting,  we  will  immediately  follow  you.  Ask 
Mrs.  Edmunds  to  please  wait  for  us  in  the  foyer,  if  you" 
reach  the  opera  house  first. " 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  between  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Latimer 
as  they  sat  side  by  side  during  the  two  mile  drive  from 
their  home  to  the  opera  house.  Mr.  Latimer  discovered, 
when  inside  the  house,  that  two  boxes  had  been  taken  by 
some  one,  that  were  being  rapidly  filled  by  ten  or  twelve 
people.  Mrs.  Edmunds  and  Mrs.  Therbert  seemed  to  be 
seating  the  company,  and  he  took  the  chair  designated. 
He  observed  that  Marie  was  not  in  the  box  with  him,  but 
was  beside  Colonel  Moran  in  the  next  box.  Mrs.  Ther- 
bert seated  herself  by  his  side,  and  engrossingly  appro- 
priated him  with  her  sprightly  talk  until  the  curtain  rose. 
He  disliked  Odette  exceedingly,  and  paid  little  or  no 
attention  to  the  stage.  When  the  play  was  over,  as  the 
crowd  emerged  from  the  building,  he  became  in  some  way 
separated  from  Mrs.  Latimer  and  her  friends,  and  waited 
outside  on  the  sidewalk,  amid  the  jostling  crowd,  looking 
eagerly  for  his  wife  until  he  felt  sure,  so  long  a  time  had 
elapsed  since  he  left  the  house,  that  sh*e  must  have  gone 
on  to  the  carriage,  which  was  some  little  distance  from 
the  entrance,  where  he  had  ordered  it  to  remain  for  them. 
As  he  approached  the  carriage,  the  coachman  told  him 


294  RODGER  LATIMEK'S  MISTAKE 

that  Mrs.  Latimer  bade  him  say  that  she  would  drive 
home  with  Mrs.  Edmunds.  When  he  reached  home  he 
went  immediately  to  his  room,  and  on  his  way  he  passed 
Mrs.  Latimer's  maid  in  the  upper  hall,  and  said  to  her*: 
"  Mrs.  Latimer  has  not  come  in." 

"I  know  it,  sir,"  she  replied,  "she  directed  me  to  sit 
up  and  let  her  fn ;  she  said  she  was  going  to  a  supper  after 
the  theater." 

The  next  day  near  noon,  Mr.  Latimer  was  lounging  in 
the  little  room  called  his  study.  He  rarely  occupied  it 
for  any  purpose  whatever,  so  rarely  that  no  one  would 
have  thought  of  looking  for  him  there.  Once  in  this 
room  he  had  overheard  a  conversation  between  his  wife 
and  Mrs.  Therbert,  as  they  were  seated  in  the  library, 
and  he  was  fated  this  morning  to  repeat  the  experience. 
As  he  lay  with  his  eyes  closed,  seriously  weighing  in  his 
mind  the  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  going  into  his 
law  office  as  an  active  partner,  in  order  to  escape  the 
weariness  of  his  idle  life,  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Therbert  fell 
on  his  ear. 

"Ask  Mrs.  Latimer,"  she  said  to  the  butler,  "  if  I  shall 
go  to  her  room."  As  she  was  speaking  Mrs.  Latimer 
entered. 

"This  is  very  sweet  of  you  to  stop  for  me,  Charlotte," 
she  said,  "  in  ten  minutes  more  I  should  have  been  on  my 
way  to  your  house.  Sit  down,  my  dear,  we  needn't  go  for 
half  an  hour  yet." 

"  How  prettily  you  have  your  neck  arranged,  Marie, 
that  is  very  becoming  to  you;  why  didn't  you  wear  that 
dress  last  night?  I  believe  it  is  even  more  becoming  than 
that  blue,"  said  Mrs.  Therbert. 

"Do  you  think  so?"  asked  Mrs.  Latimer.  "Colonel 
Moran  said  last  night  that  I  ought  always  to  wear  blue." 

"  Wasn't  that  a  complete  supper  ?  Mr.  Edmunds  always 
does  everything  perfectly,"  said  Mrs.  Therbert. 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  295 

"  We  had  just  the  right  number,  two  men  apiece,"  said 
Mrs.  Latimer.  "  How  much  pleasanter  that  makes  it,  than 
the  same  number  of  men  and  women." 

"Yes,  for  us,"  said  Mrs.  Therbert;  "but  I  wonder  if 
the  men  like  it  as  well." 

"I'm  sure  they  do;  either  you  or  I,  Charlotte,  can 
entertain  two  men." 

"  Better  say  that  it  takes  two  men  to  entertain  us,"  said 
Mrs.  Therbert,  with  a  laugh.  "  Who  did  you  come  home 
with?" 

"  With  Mrs.  Edmunds,  Colonel  Moran  and  Mr.  Whit- 
ridge.  We  drove  to  Mrs.  Edmunds'  first,  and  then 
Colonel  Moran  and  Mr.  Whitridge  brought  me  home. 
How  did  you  go  home?" 

"I'm  almost  ashamed  to  tell  you,  Marie;  I  don't  know 
how  it  happened,  but  I  went  in  Mrs.  Edmunds'  carriage, 
alone  with  Mr.  Edmunds.  I  think  that  the  arrangement 
was  that  Mr.  Barstow  was  to  go  with  us,  but  some  way 
no  one  got  into  the  carriage,  and  we  drove  off  alone." 

"Why,  that  was  strange,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer.  "Where 
did  Mr.  Barstow  go?" 

"  I  don't  know.  Don't  you  ever  tell  Lucas  that  Mrs. 
Edmunds  was  not  in  that  carriage,  he  wouldn't  like  it. 
Did  Mr.  Latimer  say  anything  about  your  staying  to  the 
supper?" 

"No,"  replied  Mrs.  Latimer. 

"  I  don't  think  Lucas  liked  my  going  without  him." 

"I  presume  not,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer.  "I  think  it 
makes  any  man  half  cross  to  have  his  wife  go  off  and  have 
a  good  time  without  him.  Not  that  he  objects  to  the 
place,  or  people  she  is  with,  but  he  don't  like  to  be  left 
out.  Was  Mr.  Therbert  awake  when  you  reached  home  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  he  was  cross  as  a  bear,  but  I  don't  blame 
him  much,  he  had  a  dreadful  time  getting  home.  Did 


296  RODGER    LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 

you  know  that  it  rained  a  little  soon  after  the  theater 
closed?" 

"  No,  but  it  was  a  nasty  night. "  v  '•' 

"You  see,"  said  Mrs.  Therbert,  "we  went  down  in  Mr. 
Whitridge's  carriage.  He  dined  with  us.  Then  Mrs. 
Edmunds  and  Mr.  Barstow,  Mr.  Whitridge  and  T 
went  to  the  Bellevue  in  Mr.  Whitridge's  carriage.  I 
thought  Lucas  would  find  Mr.  Latimer  and  come  up  with 
him,  but  he  didn't  come  across  him,  and  the  carriages 
were  all  gone  and  he  couldn't  find  a  cab,  and  so  he  took 
the  street  cars,  and  he  had  that  two  blocks  and  a  half  to 
walk,  and  it  rained  a  little,  and  he  had  no  umbrella.  It 
didn't  look  quite  right,  Marie,  say  what  you  like,  for  a 
woman  to  go  off  to  a  theater  supper,  and  then  go  home 
in  a  carriage  alone  with  another  man,  and  her  husband 
walk  home  in  the  rain.  Don't  you  ever  let  him  know 
that  Mrs.  Edmunds  wasn't  in  the  carriage,  for  I  told  him 
the  Edmund's  brought  me  home." 

"Why  didn't  he  have  his  own  carriage  there  for  him?" 

"We  went  down  with  Mr.  Whitridge,"  said  Mrs.  Ther- 
bert; "  his  carriage  was  at  our  house  for  him,  and  he  in- 
vited us  to  go  with  him." 

"Well,  I  don't  suppose  Mr.  Therbert  thinks  it  is  his 
wife's  business  to  arrange  for  his  return  home  from  a 
theater,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer. 

"No,  of  course  not,  but  it  was  unfortunate  all  around. 
He  was  not  right  good-natured  when  he  left  the  house 
this  morning;  the  children  noticed  it." 

Mrs.  Latimer  rose  from  the  sofa  where  she  had  been 
sitting  beside  her  friend,  and  stepped  to  a  table  near  by 
and  took  from  a  jar  a  dozen  or  more  of  roses.  She  wound 
some  tissue  paper  around  the  wet  stems,  and  gave  them  to 
Mrs.  Therbert. 

"There,  give  him  those,  Charlotte;  we'll  leave  them  at 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  297 

your  house  as  we  go  by,  and  to-night  give  them  to  him, 
and  tell  him  I  sent  them  to  him.  You  must  keep  your 
husband  in  good  humor." 

The  conversation  continued  some  time  longer  between 
the  two  ladies,  who  after  a  little  went  off  together  to  a 
luncheon.  Mr.  Latimer  had  distinctly  heard  every  word 
that  had  been  said,  and  he  was  surprised  that  the  artifice 
and  management  which  had  been  disclosed  on  the  part  of 
his  wife  did  not  affect  him  more  seriously  than  it  did. 
He  was  aware  that  his  strongest  feeling  regarding  her 
was  the  desire  that  she  should  conduct  herself  in  society 
in  a  way  that  would  be  consistent  with  the  dignity  of  a 
married  woman;  and  lie  congratulated  himself  upon  the 
caution  which  she  seemed  to  possess,  and  the  determination 
which  he  thought  she  evinced,  of  not  going  beyond  a  cer- 
tain line,  which  line — as  society  went — was  a  long  way 
from  the  gossiper's  target.  As  he  reflected  on  his  entire 
freedom  from  jealousy  regarding  her,  he  saw  a  more 
forbidding  specter  waiting  by  his  side  to  accompany  him 
through  life,  than  the  one  that  rose  before  him  on  the 
evening,  when,  by  the  fireside  in  his  bedroom  they  had 
their  first  disagreement  as  to  their  home  and  social  life. 
That  evening  it  was  a  terrible  specter  that  arose,  as  he 
thought,  "  She  never  loved  me,"  but  as  he  calmly  reflected 
on  her  conduct  in  the  clear  noonday  as  he  lay  on  the 
lounge  in  his  study,  the  specter  evoked  by  tue  thought, 
"I  never  loved  her,"  was  a  ghastly  thing,  rliat  <cast  a 
shadow  forward  the  length  of  his  life. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Two  weeks  after  the  incidents  recorded  in  the  last 
chapter,  Mr.  Latimer  entered  his  office  where  the  Mead 
Brothers  were  busily  at  work,  and  where  the  presence  of 
a  law  student  and  an  office  boy,  gave  quite  a  business 
aspect  to  the  place.  As  he  entered  the  room,  the  elder 
of  the  brothers,  who  happened  to  be  looking  that  way 
through  the  open  door  of  an  inner  room,  came  forward  to 
meet  him. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Latimer,"  he  said,  as  he  extended 
his  hand;  "we're  very  glad  to  see  you  here." 

"  I've  only  dropped  in  to  see  how  the  old  room  looks; 
don't  let  me  disturb  you,  I  wish  to  sit  here  for  half  an 
hour." 

"Come  into  my  office;  it's  at  your  disposal,"  said  Mr. 
Mead. 

"No,  I  thank  you,"  replied  Mr.  Latimer;  "I  prefer  to 
sit  here." 

He  stepped  to  the  window,  and  seated  himself  where 
he  could  look  into  the  street,  over  which  his  eye  had  fre- 
quently wandered  when  he  was  sole  occupant  of  that 
office,  a  poor  young  man,  waiting  for  clients.  It  did  not 
seem  possible  that  he  was  the  same  man,  who,  in  gloomy 
discontent,  used  to  stand  at  that  window,  gazing  into  the 
street  below.  He  vividly  remembered  the  ambition, 
anger  and  mortification  that  then  rilled  his  heart,  only  it 
did  not  seem  that  it  was  he.  He  thought  of  himself  as 
though  he  had  been  another  man,  and  he  criticised  and 
berated  that  other  man  for  his  ignorance  of  life,  and  folly 
in  thinking,  that  all  desirable  good  lay  in  the  possession 
of  wealth,  or  could  be  encompassed  through  wealth.  He 
298 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


299 


remembered  his  envy  of  Grey  Whitridge,  and  compared  it 
with  the  contempt  with  which  he  now  regarded  him.  He 
remembered  the  bewildering  beauty  that  then  enveloped 
the  society  women,  whom  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  see 
in  the  houses  of  wealth,  surrounded  by  the  halo  cast  by 
gold,  and  he  wondered  where  the  beauty  of  Mrs.  Therbert, 
Mrs.  Richmond  and  Mrs.  Lefarve  had  fled.  He  remem- 
bered how  the  witchery  of  dancing  feet  and  regal  feasts 
then  turned  his  head;  and  he  fairly  groaned  in  spirit  to 
think  what  sounding  brass  and  tinkling  cymbals  the  whole 
thing  was  to  him  now,  a  weight  and  burden  to  be  borne. 
He  could  not  believe  that  less  than  one  year  and  a  half 
had  elapsed.  How  could  a  man  change  so  much  in  so 
short  a  time!  It  was  as  though  he  had  leaped  from  youth 
to  age.  He  had  passed  in  a  few  months,  from  a  gnawing 
hunger  to  the  nausea  of  satiety.  A  few  months  since, 
his  heart  would  have  bounded  with  delight,  at  the 
thought  of  leading  a  german  in  the  home  of'a  millionaire, 
now  he  felt  like  laying  a  rawhide  over  the  shoulders  of 
any  man,  who  would  dare  to  ask  him  to  do  so  stupid 
a  thing.  What  a  little  thing  it  seemed  When  once  done! 
When  he  was  outside  the  charmed  circle,  he  was  gloomy 
and  unhappy;  now  that  he  was  inside,  standing  at  the 
very  center,  was  he  less  gloomy  and  unhappy?  He  ought 
to  be  happy;  possessed  of  an  assured  income,  and  of  a 
wife  who  was  said  to  be' the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the 
city;  possessed  also  of  leisure,  and  a  large  circle  of 
friends;  yet  he  was  as  restless  and  unhappy  as  a  man 
could  be.  It  was  true  he  had  not  exhausted  the  capa- 
bilities of  wealth,  that  there  were  some  pleasures  lying 
in  wait  for  him,  that  money  could  buy,  that  he  had  not 
tasted.  Mr.  Whitridge  and  Mr.  Barstow,  and  several 
other  club  friends,  had  invited  him  to  the  delectable 
pleasures  of  late  suppers,  and  their  after  kindred  grati- 


3oo 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


fications;  but  his  nature  revolted  from  that  species  of 
pleasure.  He  left  his  chair,  and  walked  slowly  down  the 
room  in  front  of  the  rows  of  law  books  on  the  shelves, 
looking  at  them  closely,  and  at  times  standing  still  in  front 
of  them,  lost  in  thought.  Yes,  he  ought  to  be  there  study- 
ing, it  would  be  much  pleasanter  than  going  to  the  balls 
and  dinners  that  he  was  compelled  to;  books  were  more  to 
him  than  society,  the  training  of  his  youth,  and  habits  of 
his  manhood  had  unfitted  him  for  the  idle  dissipations  that 
wealth  seemed  to  entail ;  should  he  pick  up  his  knowledge 
of  law  again,  and  enter  earnestly  "into  its  practice,  and 
come  regularly  to  his  office?  He  turned  to  the  table 
where  the  law  student  was  at  work,  and  glanced  over  the 
paper  that  he  was  copying,  then  he  entered  Mr.  Mead's 
room,  and  made  inquiries  regarding  the  business  of  the 
office,  the  number  and  character  of  the  suits  on  hand. 
He  listened  attentively  to  all  Mr.  Mead  said,  and  came 
to  quite  an  accurate  conclusion  as  to  the  character  of  the 
work  that  awaited  him,  should  he  resume  practice.  It 
seemed  very  uninviting,  an  uninspiring  drudgery:  to  un- 
dertake it  for  the  mere  love  of  it,  was  impossible.  He 
wondered  at  the  enthusiasm  with  which  Mr.  Mead  entered 
into  a  recital  of  several  cases  that  were  pending,  and  at 
his  evident  gratification,  as  he  stated  the  aggregate 
amount  earned  by  the  office  during  the  last  six  months. 
It  seemed  to  Mr.  Latimer  a  pitiful  sum  of  money,  for  so 
much  work.  He  felt  that  the  incentive  to  labor  was 
lacking  in  his  life. 

After  lingering  an  hour  in  the  office  he  went  over  to  his 
club,  where  he  lunched  with  half  a  dozen  acquaintances, 
some  of  whom  were  possessed  of  inherited  wealth,  and 
some  were  active  business  and  professional  men,  who 
had  earned  every  dollar  of  their  large  fortunes.  As  he 
observed  the  superior  health,  intellectual  activity  and 


RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


301 


cheerful  animation  which  the  latter  possessed  over  the 
former,  he  questioned  if  his  uncle's  legacy  to  him  had 
been  an  unmixed  blessing.  He  feared  that  he  had  per- 
mitted his  wealth  to  place  him  in  an  unnatural  position, 
and  paralyze  the  best  faculties  of  his  being.  He  felt  that 
he  was  a  man  of  splendid  health,  stalwart  and  vigorous; 
but  this  physical  strength  was  given  to  dancing  and  carry- 
ing a  cane;  that  his  mind  was  well  stored  and  naturally 
active,  but  it  had  little  employment  outside  of  settling 
the  momentous  question  of  clothes  and  assisting  in  the 
selection  of  French  parlor  theatricals;  that  his  sympathies 
and  moral  sense  allied  him  to  all  humanity,  but  practi- 
cally his  sole  interest  centered  in  a  circle  of  women  who 
wore  good  clothes,  and  men  who  followed  in  their  wake. 
He  sat  in  the  reading-room  for  several  hours  during  the 
afternoon  engaged  in  moral  reflections,  which  ended  in 
his  going  home  to  dress  for  the  dancing  class  ball,  which 
ball  was  to  close  the  season  before  Lent,  and  was  to  be  a 
splendid  affair,  the  last  ecstatic  reel  of  the  members  of  the 
dancing  class  before  they  sat  down  in  penitential  sack- 
cloth and  ashes  to  weep  over  their  sins. 

If  Mr.  Latimer  had  hoped  in  his  ignorance  of  society's 
ways  of  wearing  sackcloth,  that  he  was  to  have  a  forty- 
days'  rest,  he  speedily  found  out  his  mistake  by  dis- 
covering the  special  adaptation  of  the  Histrionic  club  to 
the  needs  of  the  elite  penitents.  He  soon  learned  that 
parties  and  public  dances  were  to  be  foregone,  and  that 
the  self-denying  spirit  required  the  sacrifice  af  operas  and 
theaters,  demanding  that  theatricals  be  relegated  to  pri- 
vate theaters,  and  that  all  dancing  should  be  impromptu 
in  drawing-rooms  and  at  the  rehearsals  of  the  Histrionic 
club. 

Mrs.  Latimer  had  informed  her  husband  several  times 
with  an  icy  dignity  of  manner  that  it  was  not  necessary 


302 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


for  him  to  escort  her  to  all  of  the  rehearsals  held  by  the 
club,  and  frequently  he  did  not  know  when  or  where  they 
were  held  until  after  her  return  from  them  accompanied 
by  some  of  her  gentlemen  friends  and  Mrs.  Lefarve  or 
Mrs.  Therbert,  usually  Mrs.  Therbert.  The  association 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Latimer  with  each  other  since  the  un- 
pleasant scene  between  them  on  the  night  of  Modjeska's 
Odette  had  been  conducted  with  conventional  politeness. 
T^ey  were  rarely  alone  together,  unless  when  wearily 
undressing  for  bed  at  a  late  hour,  or  in  the  presence  of  the 
servants  at  the  breakfast  table.  Even  their  Sundays  were 
not  passed  with  each  other,  for  some  one  always  dined 
with  them,  and  it  was  not  an  unusual  occurrence  for  three 
or  four  persons  to  come  in  for  the  evening,  and  remain 
until  midnight. 

There  did  seem  to  be  a  prospect  of  their  passing  one 
evening  by  their  own  fireside  late  in  February.  The  day 
was  the  anniversary  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  White's  marriage, 
which  Mrs.  White  declared  should  be  celebrated  by  a 
family  dinner  at  an  earlier  hour  than  usual,  so  that  the 
children  could  dine  with  them.  A  six  o'clock  dinner  was 
ordered,  at  which  there  were  no  guests  beside  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Latimer  At  nine  o'clock  the  children  were  taken 
to  the  nursery,  and  soon  after  Mrs.  Latimer  announced 
that  she  must  return  home.  Mr.  Latimer  was  surprised 
that  she  wished  to  return  so  early,  as  she  had  said  to  him 
on  their  way  to  Mrs.  White's  that  she  had  no  other 
engagement  for  the  evening,  and  he  could  not  imagine 
that  she  wished  to  pass  hours  alone  with  him.  On  enter- 
ing the  library  they  found  Mrs.  Therbert  sitting  by  the 
fire  waiting  their  return. 

"You  see  I  have  taken  possession,"  she  said,  as  she  rose 
to  greet  them. 

"Yes,  and  you  are  an  angel  for  coming,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Latimer,  as  she  fondly  kissed  her. 


RODGER    LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 


303 


Usually  when  any  of  Mrs.  Latimer's  lady  friends 
came  in,  unaccompanied  by  their  husbands,  Mr.  Lat- 
imer  withdrew  to  his  own  room,  and  passed  the  time 
with  his  books,  and  such  hours  were  most  enjoyed  by 
him  of  any  that  the  winter  brought  him.  But  to-night 
he  purposely  staid  in  the  library,  taking  up  a  mag- 
azine to  read,  so  as  not  to  be  a  check  on  the  conver- 
sation of  the  ladies.  For  the  past  few  days,  he  had 
been  thinking  much  of  the  unfortunate  state  of  affairs 
between  Mrs.  Latimer  and  himself,  and  of  how  little, 
after  all,  he  really  knew  of  her  most  intimate  society 
friends.  He  had  been  thinking  of  Marie's  comparative 
youth,  her  great  desire  for  praise  and  adulation,  which 
was  fed  and  inflamed  by  the  flattery  forced  upon  her 
from  all  sides,  of  what  seemed  to  him,  her  insane  love 
of  dress,  and  inordinate  fondness  of  gentlemen's  atten- 
tions. He  questioned  whether  he  had  acted  wisely  in 
giving  her  an  unrestricted  bank  account  of  her  own,  and 
blamed  himself,  that  he  had  not  insisted  on  accom- 
panying her  to  every  one  of  the  Histrionic  rehearsals; 
and  he  remembered,  as  he  went  over  it  as  accurately 
as  he  could,  that  not  more  than  one-half  of  the  time 
had  he  been  with  her  to  these  rehearsals.  The  result 
of  these  reflections  had  been,  that  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  identify  himself  more  closely  than  ever,  with 
his  wife's  society  life,  especially  the  informal  part  of 
it,  of  which  he  had  reallyi known  but  little.  And  another 
thing  that  he  determined  to  do,  was  to  break  up  the 
intimacy  between  Marie  and  Mrs.  Therbert,  whom  he  had 
come  to  regard  as  a  woman  of  little  principle,  a  thor- 
oughly scheming,  selfish  one,  who  had  no  honest  affection 
for  his  wife,  whom  she  was  constantly  flattering  and 
petting,  for  purposes  of  her  own.  In  keeping  with  these 
determinations,  he  remained  in  the  library,  instead  of 


304  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

going,  as  usual,  to  his  own  room;  a  proceeding  which 
evidently  discomfited  both  ladies,  and  which  he  plainly 
saw  was  making  Marie  angry.  In  fact,  Mrs.  Latimer 
wondered  at  his  behavior  in  staying,  and  was  revolv- 
ing in  her  own  mind,  whether  or  not,  it  would  do  to 
take  Mrs.  Therbert  to  some  other  room.  She  did  not 
wish  to  do  quite  so  pointed  a  thing,  and  yet  there  were 
matters  in  connection  with  their  forthcoming  play  that 
she  wished  to  canvass  with  Mrs.  Therbert,  and  of  which 
she  desired  her  husband  to  know  nothing.  For  half 
an  hour  the  conversation  went  on  in  a  desultory  sort 
of  way,  regarding  some  society  matters  in  which  neither 
of  the  ladies  were  evidently  interested,  and  their  gaiety 
of  spirits  was  obviously  assumed.  But  after  awhile, 
Mrs.  Therbert,  who  had  glanced  frequently  from  hus- 
band to  wife,  as  though  unable  to  understand  this  new 
state  of  affairs,  and  .evidently  feeling  that  something 
unusual  was  taking  place,  had  taken  place,  or  was  going 
to  take  place,  seemed  to  have  made  up  her  mind  as  to 
what  she  herself  would  do  under  the  circumstances; 
turned  the  conversation  abruptly  from  the  subject  on 
which  Mrs.  Latimer  was  speaking,  by  saying: 

"  Mr.-  Lefarve  was  to  see  me  immediately  after 
dinner,  about  that  Medora  dress  of  yours,  and  he  wished 
me  to  ask  you,  if  you  hadn't  better  take  cardinal 
instead  of  blue.  He  rather  wishes  for  the  blue  for 
his  own  coat.  Now  what  do  you  think  about  it?  if  it  is 
changed  we  must  do  it  soon,  for  so  many  other  changes 
will  have  to  be  made  in  colors,  if  that  is  changed. 
I  know  Colonel  Moran  likes  you  best  in  blue,  but  Mr. 
Lefarve  thinks  the  change  better  be  made." 

"I  don't  know  as  I  care  anything  about  it,  Charlotte, 
don't  let  us  talk  of  it  to-night,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer, 
fixing  her  eyes  upon  Mrs.  Therbert  with  a  signifi- 


RODGER  LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 


305 


cant  expression  which  Mrs.  Therbert  failed  to  see, 
owing  to  the  way  the  light  fell  upon  Mrs.  Latimer;  or 
for  some  reason  known  to  herself,  did  not  choose  to 
heed. 

Mrs.  Therbert  broke  into  a  laugh.  "  You  don't  care!" 
she  said,  "well,  you  are  a  strange  woman,  Marie  Lat- 
imer; I'm  poorly  paid  for  coming  out  in  the  cold  to  see 
you  about  the  matter." 

"Why,   my  dear  Charlotte!  don't  say  so,    indeed — 

"  Here  I've  been  doing  my  best  to  keep  that  blue  for 
you,"  said  Mrs.  Therbert,  interrupting  Mrs.  Latimer  in 
a  most  discourteous  manner,  "somewhat,  to  be  sure,  to 
please  Mr.  Whitridge  and  Colonel  Moran,  for  they  both 
declare  that  you  ought  to  wear  the  blue,  that  it  is  so 
very  becoming  to  you;  but  more  to  please  you,  and 
then  you  say  you  don't  know,  or  care  anything  about 
it!" 

"  I  meant  I  didn't  care  to  decide  to-night,  Charlotte. 
I  do  care  to  do  whatever  you  wish  me  to — 

"I  have  no  wish,  or  opinion  about  it,"  interrupted 
Mrs.  Therbert  half  angrily. 

"Come,  Charlotte,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer,  who  was 
anxious  to  appease  her  friend,  "don't  be  so  hard  on 
me.  I  know  it's  very  kind  of  you  to  come  out  to-night, 
and  that  you  are  very  unselfish,  I  do  care,  as  a  matter 
of  course  I  care  for  everything  that  relates  to  our 
play—" 

Mrs.  Latimer  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  her 
butler,  who  approached  her  with  a  large  bunch  of  Marechal 
Niel  roses,  bound  together  by  a  narrow  ribbon,  to  which 
was  attached  a  card. 

"  How  did  these  come,  Standish  ?"  she  asked,  as  she 
took  them  from  the  tray. 

"A  man  just  left  them  at  the  door,"  the  butler  replied. 

20  Rodger  Larimer's  Mistake. 


306 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


"How  lovely  they  are!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Therbert.  "I 
adore  Marechal  Niels;  who  sent  them,  Marie?" 

Mrs.  Latimer  had  detached  the  card  from  the  ribbon, 
and  after  reading  what  was  written  thereon,  she  slipped 
it  in  the  belt  of  her  dress.  As  she  raised  the  roses  to  her 
.face,  she  said  in  reply  to  Mrs.  Therbert's  question :  "A 
friend  of  mine." 

"  I  wish  I  had  a  dozen  such  friends, "  said  Mrs.  Therbert, 
as  she  reached  her  hand  for  the  flowers,  il  these  are  the 
finest  I've  seen  this  winter." 

"  Xow  about  that  dress,  Charlotte,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer, 
as  she  resigned  her  flowers  into  the  outstretched  hand, 
"perhaps  we  better  not  give  up  the  blue,  but  I'll  do  as 
you  think  best.  I  don't  see  why  we  should  give  up  a  color 
that  exactly  pleases  us,  to  Mr.  Lefarve,  but  as  I  said,  I'll 
do  as  you  say  about  it." 

"  How  queer  you  talk  to-night,  Marie.  I've  nothing  to 
do  with  that  costume,  it's  nothing  to  me,  either  the  blue 
or  the  cardinal.  Of  course  I  wish  to  see  you  look  your 
best,  and  talce  more  interest  in  your  appearance  than  I  do 
in  Mr.  Lefarve's,  but  if  you  and  Colonel  Moran  and  Mr. 
Whitridge  are  satisfied,  the  rest  of  us  ought  to  be." 

"  Well  then,"  said  Mrs.  Latimer,  as  she  took  her  flowers 
from  Mrs.  Therbert's  lap,  "I'll  keep  the  blue,  and  if  you 
cannot  satisfy  Mr.  Lefarve  regarding  it,  I'll  talk  the 
matter  over  with  him.  Now  tell  me  about  Mrs.  Black, 
Harriet  said  she  heard  that  you  had  received  a  letter  from 
her;  is  she. in  Algiers  or  Spain?" 

Before  Mrs.  Therbert  could  reply  to  this  question,  they 
were  again  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  butler,  who 
brought  a  note  to  Mrs.  Latimer,  which,  after  breaking  the 
seal  that  securely  fastened  it,  she  read  attentively.  As 
she  finished  reading  it,  she  placed  it  in  her  belt  beside  the 
card.  She  did  not  look  at  her  husband,  but  turned  to  Mrs. 


RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 


307 


Therbert,  and  vivaciously  resumed  the  conversation  with 
her,  by  asking  several  questions  regarding  Mrs.  Black  and 
her  winter  abroad.  Mr.  Latimer's  thoughts  took  a  new  di- 
rection, that  led  him  into  a  field  of  speculation — that  of 
society  flirtations — that  was  neither  pleasant  to  himself, 
nor  complimentary  to  his  wife.  It  was  nearly  eleven 
o'clock,  when  Mr.  Therbert,  returning  home  from  some 
public  meeting,  came  in  for  his  wife.  He  was  both  tired 
and  cold,  and  could  not  be  persuaded  to  remain  longer 
than  for  Mrs.  Therbert  to  gather  her  wraps  around  her. 
Mrs.  Latimer  accompanied  her  into  the  hall,  and  after  an 
affectionate  parting  from  her,  returned  to  the  library 
fireside,  where  Mr.  Latimer  was  sitting,  holding  in  his 
hand  the  roses  which  she  had  laid  on  the  table  as  she 
passed  down  the  room  with  Mrs.  Therbert. 

"These  are  beautiful  flowers,  Marie,"  he  said,  "who 
sent  them  to  you?" 

"  A  friend  of  mine,"  Mrs.  Latimer  replied,  as  she  rested 
one  hand  on  the  corner  of  the  mantel,  and  placed  her  foot 
on  the  fender. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  replied  Mr.  Latimer,  "but  which 
one  of  your  many  friends?" 

"I  don't  know,  Rodger,  as  it's  of  any  importance  to 
you,  which  one  of  the  many,  as  you  are  pleased  to  desig- 
nate them,"  replied  Mrs.  Latimer,  who  was  ill-natured 
because  she  had  been  disappointed  in  her  evening  with 
Mrs.  Therbert.  The  truth  was,  she  did  not  wish  her  hus- 
band to  know  anything  of  the  character  or  costume  in 
which  she  was  to  appear  the  next  week  in  their  long  talked 
of  play,  that  was  then  to  have  its  first  presentation,  so 
she  had  not  dared  to  speak  of  any  one  of  the  several  items 
that  she  had  wished  to  talk  over  with  Mrs.  Therbert. 
-  "  It's  of  importance  to  me  that  my  wife  courteously 
answer  any  question  that  I  may  ask,"  said  Mr.  Latimer, 


3o8  RODGER    LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

with  severe  dignity.  Mrs.  Latimer  looked  morosely  into 
the  fire,  and  said  nothing.  Mr.  Latimer  regarded  her  in 
silence  for  a  moment,  and  then  said: 

"I  wish  to  know  who  sent  these  flowers  to  you." 
As  she  remained  silent,  his  face  flushed  with  anger.  At 
first  he  had  cared  very  little  who  the  person  was  that  paid 
his  wife  the  attention  of  sending  her  roses,  but  her  per- 
sistent refusal  to  tell  him,  angered  him,  and  also  excited 
his  curiosity  regarding  the  donor.  The  authoritative 
tone  of  her  husband's  voice,  aroused  all  of  the  feminine 
resistance  within  Mrs.  Latimer,  and  she  continued  her 
silence.  After  a  few  moments  Mr.  Latimer  asked: 

"  From  whom  was  that  note  that  Standish  handed  you  ?" 
Mrs.  Latimer  raised  her  eyes,  and  fixed  them  full  upon 
her  husband's  face,  in  a  defiant  stare,  as  she  sneeringly 
said: 

"Would  my  lordlike  to  know  also,  who  sent  the  letter 
I  received  yesterday  ?" 

Instantly  there  was  a  reaction  in  Mr.  Latimer's  heart. 
His  blood  fell  to  zero,  and  the  momentary  sense  of  keen 
suffering  occasioned  by  his  wife's  mad  injustice,  which 
had,  as  she  spoke,  immediately  taken  the  place  of  the 
anger  that  had  filled  his  heart,  gave  way  quickly  to  cool 
contempt.  Could  that  be  his  wife  ?  had  that  flushed  face, 
with  its  swollen  lips,  and  fiery  eyes,  ever  been  beautiful 
in  his  sight?  They  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  for  an 
instant,  then  Mr.  Latimer  rose  to  his  feet,  and  quietly 
laid  the  roses  which  he  had  retained  in  his  hand,  on  a  chair 
directly  in  front  of  the  fire;  after  which  he  slowly  walked 
the  length  of  the  room  to  the  hall  door.  As  he  was  pass- 
ing through  the  doorway,  he  stopped,  with  his  back  to  the 
library,  holding  the  portiere  aside  with  his  hand,  and  with- 
out turning  his  head,  said,  in  a  voice  held  steady  by  force 
of  will,  and  in  a  tone  lower  than  his  usual  intonations: 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


309 


"I  shall  occupy  the  north  room  to-night,"  dropped  the 
curtain,  and  passed  up  the  stairs. 

Mrs.  Latimer  was  too  angry  to  care  for  consequences. 
She  took  the  flowers  from  the  chair  where  her  husband 
had  placed  them,  and  held  them  to  her  face  as  though  to 
inhale  their  fragrance.  After  a  little  she  took  the  note 
from  her  belt,  and  read  it  several  times  over.  As  she 
read  it,  the  expression  of  her  face  changed,  the  anger  and 
resentment  that  had  almost  transformed  her  features,  as 
she  gave  her  stinging  retort  to  her  husband,  was  replaced 
by  a  look  of  complete  satisfaction  and  happiness.  The 
muscles  of  her  face  relaxed,  her  eyes  grew  gentle  and 
dreamy,  and  a  smile  of  pleasurable  excitement  parted  her 
lips.  After  reading  the  note  half  a  dozen  times,  she  sat 
motionless,  gazing  in  the  smoldering  fire  for  half  an  hour. 

Then  she  leaned  down  low  over  the  ashes,  and  with 
the  poker  raked  up  all  of  the  live  coals,  which  she 
gathered  into  a  heap,  over  which  she  held  the  note 
between  her  thumb  and  finger.  But  just  as  she  was  going 
'to  lay  it  on  the  coals,  she  seemed  to  have  changed  her 
mind,  for  she  rose,  thrust  the  note  into  the  bosom  of  her 
dress,  and  passed  out  of  the  library,  up  stairs  to  her  room 
with  a  flush  upon  her  face,  arfd  a  light  of  happy  expect- 
ancy in  her  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Four  weeks  from  that  evening  Mr.  Latimer  sat  alone  in 
a  desolate  home.  The  March  wind  came  down  from  the 
north,  like  leashed  lions,  the  carriages  rattled  over  the 
hard  pavement  of  the  street,  as  though  horses  and  drivers 
were  hastening  before  the  wild  blast;  but  Mr.  Latimer, 
sitting  in  the  solitude  of  his  chamber,  heeded  the  storm 
as  little,  as  did  the  dead  mistress  of  the  house,  lying  in 
her  cold  beauty  in  the  drawing-room  below.  She  was 
wrapped  about  in  soft  folds  of  white,  silky  woolen,  sur- 
rounded by  white  flowers.  There  were  flowers  everywhere ; 
on  the  mantel,  on  tables,  on  the  piano,  and  all  over  the 
coffin  that  rested  on  a  low  bier  in  the  center  of  the  room, 
which  seemed  full  of  orchids,  lilies  of  the  valley,  snow- 
drops, camellias,  and  white  roses.  The  marble  face  was 
uncovered,  and  the  head  was  turned  a  little  to  one  side 
on  its  pillow.  There  came  a  dim  light  from  the  side 
gas  jets,  that  cast  into  the  silent  room  the  softness  of 
moonlight.  Over  this  scene  of  icy  beauty,  reigned  a 
deathly  stillness,  in  strange  contrast  with  the  raging  storm 
without. 

It  had  been  a  backward  spring,  full  of  the  sharp  winds 
and  sudden  changes  incident  to  the  lake  region,  and  Mrs. 
Latimer  took  a  severe  cold  one  evening,  by  standing  in  a 
current  of  air  on  the  stage,  during  the  presentation  of  a 
play  by  the  Histrionic  club,  in  the  costume  her  character 
demanded,  which  costume  was  composed  of  very  thin 
fabrics.  Her  cold  took  the  form  of  pneumonia,  that 
rapidly  assumed  a  severe  type,  and  in  a  few  days  placed 
her  beyond  human  skill.  All  of  her  society  friends  would 
have  gathered  in  sympathy  close  around  her  husband, 
310 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  3ir 

after  her  decease,  had  they  been  permitted  by  him  to  have 
done  so;  but  he  shut  himself  away  in  the  solitude  of  his 
own  chamber,  to  which  he  admitted  no  one  beside  his 
servant,  and  Mrs.  White,  when  he  was  forced  to  respond 
to  some  of  her  questions,  regarding  his  wishes,  in  con- 
nection with  the  burial.  Mrs.  White  tried  to  persuade 
him  to  look  upon  the  face  of  his  dead  wife,  but  he  would 
not. 

"Let  me  alone,  Harriet,"  he  said,  "let  me  think  of 
her  as  she  was,  a  beautiful,  living  woman.  I  would 
rather  not  carry  in  my  memory  a  dead  face." 

"But  Rodger,"  Mrs.  White  persisted,  "you've  no  idea 
how  beautiful  the  dear  girl  looks,  so  peaceful  and 
.happy." 

Mr.  Latimer  begged  to  be  left  to  himself,  reiterating 
that  it  was  better  he  should  not  see  her.  But  that  night, 
as  he  sat  gazing  vacantly  into  the  fire,  he  suddenly 
started  from  his  chair,  as  though  a  new  thought  had 
struck  him,  and  went  into  the  hall,  and  stood  outside  of 
his  open  door.  It  was  past  midnight,  and  not  the 
slightest  sound  was  to  be  heard.  He  supposed  there 
were  people  up,  somewhere  in  the  house,  but  he  did  not 
know  who  was  there,  nor  in  which  room  they  were. 
After  listening  a  moment,  he  closed  his  door  and  passed 
slowly  down  the  stairs,  and  across  the  deserted  lower 
hall,  and  stood  outside  of  the  parlor  door.  He  placed 
his  hand  on  the  knob,  then  turned  his  head  to  listen. 
Not  a  sound  reached  his  ear,  it  was  as  silent  as  though 
he  was  the  only  living  thing  in  the  house.  He  opened 
the  door,  passed  in,  and  quickly  closed  it  behind  him. 
He  stood  still  and  looked  around  the  room,  and  at  last 
let  his  eye  rest  upon  the  mass  of  white  flowers  in  the 
center;  all  the  impression  he  received  was  of  aji  area 
of  beautiful  flowers,  a  mass  of  bouquets.  He  looked  up 


312 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


and  down  the  room,  into  the  shadowy  corners,  and  at  the 
yellow  gas  jets  turned  so  low,  they  gave  forth  only  a 
weird  light;  stepped  to  the  jet  nearest  to  him,  turned  it 
up  full  head,  then  walked  to  the  bier,  and  gazed  at  the 
white  face  embedded  in  white  flowers.  He  stood  immov- 
able, looking  upon  the  face  of  the  woman  he  had  called 
wife.  No  cry  arose  to  his  lips,  no  tears  came  into  his 
eyes.  His  face  had  upon  it  a  solemnity  equal  to  that 
of  the  dead,  and  a  sadness  only  living  faces  wear.  He 
did  not  think  of  his  wedding  day,  or  of  the  blissful 
weeks  that  preceded  it,  nor  of  the  disappointments  that 
had  come  to  him,  from  time  to  time,  regarding  his  home 
life  during  the  winter  that  was  past,  or  of  anything  per- 
taining to  himself,  his  life  with  Marie,  or  what  the 
future  held  for  him.  Just  now  death  seemed  the  only 
reality  in  all  the  world.  Death,  coming  like  a  sharp 
blow  in  the  middle  of  life,  and  cutting  off  one-half  of  it 
at  a  stroke.  His  mind  was  engrossed  with  the  strong 
workings  of  nature,  the  impotence  of  human  will,  and 
human  love,  before  physical  law;  the  mastery  of  the 
material  over  the  spiritual.  With  his  eyes  fixed  immov- 
ably upon  the  unconscious  face  before  him,  he  said  to 
himself:  "This  cannot  bean  end,  there  is  nothing  here 
to  suggest,  or  indicate  an  end,  but  there  is  a  suggestion 
of  a  somewhere  else."  For  a  long  time  he  gazed  silently 
upon  the  white  face  amid  the  flowers,  then  he  slowly 
left  the  room,  without  turning  off  the  light  with  which 
he  had  flooded  it.  As  he  closed  the  door,  it  was  with  a 
wonder  in  his  mind,  that  he  did  not  suffer  more.  He 
reproached  himself,  because  his  wife's  death  had  not 
occasioned  him  greater  sorrow;  he  was  shocked,  to  think 
that  he  could  pass  through  such  an  experience  without 
excruciating  anguish,  and  with  so  little  sense  of  personal 
loss.  Shocked,  to  feel  that  the  death  of  his  wife  had 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


313 


affected  his  mind  more  than  his  heart,  had  been  the 
cause  of  awakening  his  intellect  to  new  reflections  of  the 
deepest  significance,  rather  than  of  wringing  his  heart 
with  the  anguish  of  separation. 

The  immediate  practical  results  in  Mr.  Latimer's  life, 
of  Mrs.  Latimer's  death  were,  the  closing  of  the  house 
on  Huron  avenue,  and  his  withdrawal  from  society,  and 
close  application  to  the  business  of  his  law  office.  He 
studied  to  make  himself  thoroughly  familiar  with  the 
affairs  of  the  office,  giving  the  most  diligent  attention  to 
both  the  technical  forms,  and  legal  principles.  He  soon 
became  much  interested  in  his  profession,  and  not  a  long 
time  passed  before  he  began  to  reap  the  reward  of  his 
labor,  in  the  delightful  mental  excitement  that  filled  his 
days.  The  energies  of  his  mind  awoke  in  full  force,  and 
at  times  he  possessed  the  exquisite  pleasure  that  comes 
from  intellectual  creation.  As  the  summer  advanced  he 
persuaded  his  two  partners  to  go  off  for  a  vacation, 
leaving  whatever  business  there  was  to  be  done  in  the 
office  at  that  season,  entirely  with  him.  He  neither 
knew  or  cared  to  know,  where  his  old  society  friends 
were,  he  only  wished  to  be  left  undisturbed  at  his  work. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

We  shall  have  to  go  back  a  little  in  the  season  to 
Margaret  McVey.  It  was  early  in  May,  that  Miss  Sar- 
gent was  sitting  at  her  desk  engaged  in  making  out  her 
annual  reports  to  several  societies  for  which  she  was 
secretary,  when  Margaret,  who  was  such  a  frequent 
visitor  at  the  house  that  her  coming  and  going  was 
scarcely  more  noticed  than  that  of  its  mistress;  entered 
the  library  so  noiselessly  that  before  Miss  Sargent  knew 
that  she  was  there,  she  had  her  arms  around  her  neck, 
and  was  kissing  her. 

"Why  my  dear,  how  like  a  fairy  you  come,"  said  Miss 
Sargent,  "you  must  have  had  an  early  breakfast." 

"Yes,  I  did  have  an  early  breakfast,  for  I  didn't  sleep 
much  last  night.  Aunt  Helen,  are  you  very  busy  with 
that  writing?" 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Miss  Sargent,  opening  a  drawer  in 
the  "desk,  into  which  she  swept  all  of  her  papers,  with  a 
stroke  of  her  hand.  "  These  reports  are  nearly  done,  and 
I  don't  need  them  for  several  weeks  yet.  Now  what  is  it, 
dear?  for  I  know  bythe  tone  of  your  voice,  that  you  have 
something  of  more  than  usual  importance  to  say  to  me." 
Miss  Sargent  rose  from  her  desk  as  she  was  speaking,  and 
seated  herself  in  a  large  chair,  and  Margaret  dropped  on 
a  hassock  at  her  feet,  and  rested  her  arm  across  Miss 
Sargent's  knees. 

"I  want  to  go  to  Europe,  Aunt  Helen,"  said  Margaret 
as  she  looked  up  in  Miss  Sargent's  face. 

"To  Europe,  Margaret!" 

"Yes,  to  Europe.  Aunt  Helen,  you  remember  that  you 
proposed  it  last  spring,  I  felt  then  that  I  could  not  go,  it 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE 


315 


would  have  been  a  going  away  from  everything,  but  now, 
I  feel  I  must  go,  I  can't  stay  here  any  longer." 

"Well  dear,  I  presume  that  you  are  right,"  said  Miss 
Sargent,  "you  usually  are,  although  I  don't  quite  under- 
stand it.  But  it  shall  be  as  you  wish,  be  sure  of  that, 
whether  I  or  any  one  beside  yourself  understands  it:  but 
why  this  sudden  start?" 

"I  wish  that  I  could  make  you  understand  it,  Aunt 
Helen,"  said  Margaret,  as  she  laid  her  head  on  Miss 
Sargent's  knee. 

"If  you  really  wish  to,  why  can't  you  dear,  am  I  so 
dull  of  comprehension  ?" 

"No,  no,"  said  Margaret,  reaching  out  her  hand  to 
clasp  one  of  Miss  Sargent's,"  but  it  is  hardly  natural  that 
you  and  I  should  think  alike  on  some  subjects." 

"Why  not  natural,  Margaret,  because  I'm  so  very  old?" 

"Oh  no,  you're  not  old,  that  is,  not  old  in  your  feel- 
ings." 

"Well  then,  is  it  because  you  think  that  you  have  had 
some  experiences  in  life  that  I  cannot  understand,  that 
I  cannot  share?"  Margaret  clung  in  silence  to  the  hand 
she  held,  and  pressed  it  to  her  face.  "  Perhaps  Margaret 
it.  might  be  well  for  us  to  talk  freely  upon  this  subject  if 
we  can,"  continued  Miss  Sargent,  after  a  few  moments' 
silence,  "we  are  very  much  to  each  other,  you  are  more 
to  me  than  any  one  living,  and  while  I  fully  appreciate 
the  sacredness  of  the  individual  personality,  and  under- 
stand that  our  greatest  sorrows  can  be  shared  by  no 
one,  and  that  the  greatest  changes  in  our  characters  are 
wrought  out  in  solitude;  yet  my  darling,  this  is  a  sub- 
ject on  which  we  might,  and  perhaps  ought  to  talk 
freely,  without  the  least  reserve.  And  if  we  could  for 
once  put  all  reserve  aside,  and  speak  freely,  it  might  be 
a  comfort  to  us  both.  You  never  would  let  me  tell  you 


3i6  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

dear,  how  I  suffered  with  you,  but  I  did  suffer,  in  tears 
and  bitter  indignation.  The  thought  of  your  sorrow 
makes  me  weep  even  now;  I  know  you  are  happier,  or  at 
least,  less  sorrowful,  than  you  were  a  year  ago,  I  know 
that  some  sort  of  comfort  has  come  to  you ;  and  I  know 
— and  oh!  Margaret!  how  I  rejoice  in  it — I  know  how 
nobly  you  have  borne  this  terrible  grief,  and  how  eleva- 
ting upon  your  character  its  effect  has  been."  By  this 
time  both  women  were  quietly  weeping,  Miss  Sargent 
could  see  the  tears  dropping  from  Margaret's  eyelashes, 
upon  her  half-averted  face.  After  a  little  Miss  Sargent 
continued: 

"  I  sent  you  all  of  the  papers  that  contained  anything 
regarding" — should  she  say  Marie?  or  Rodger's  wife?  or 
Mrs.  Latimer?  After  a  slight  hesitation  she  said, 
"  regarding  Marie's  death.  I  have  not  seen  Rodger  since 
the  evening  of  the  funeral.  John  and  I  called  late  that 
evening  at  his  house,  and  when  the  man  told  us  that  Mr. 
Latimer  saw  no  one  John  insisted  on  sending  our  cards 
to  him;  I  did  not  think  it  best,  but  on  the  whole  I  was 
glad  afterward.  Rodger  came  down  to  the  library,  and 
thanked  us  for  sending  our  names  to  him,  and  said  he 
would  have  regretted  not  seeing  us,  but  admitted  that  he 
did  not  wish  to  see  any  of  his  society  friends.  He 
looked  in  good  health,  and  had  a  sad  dignity  of  manner 
that  was  very  impressive.  We  invited  him  to  return  with 
us  for  the  night,  but  he  said  he  preferred  remaining 
where  he  was.  We  were  not  there  more  than  a  quarter 
of  an  hour;  he  went  to  the  outside  door  with  us  when  we 
left,  and  as  I  extended  my  hand  to  say  good-night,  he 
took  it  in  both  of  his,  and  looked  in  my  face  as  though 
he  was  going  to  say  something;  but  if  he  had  intended 
to,  he  changed  his  mind,  for  he  relinquished  my  hand 
with  a  pressure,  and  bade  me  good-night.  The  next 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


317 


Saturday  I  sent  him  an  invitation  to  dinner  Sunday,  and 
in  the  note  I  told  him,  I  hoped  he  would  consider  our 
house  his  home,  and  come  informally,  .whenever  he 
chose,  as  he  used  to  years  ago ;  and  that  he  must  com- 
mand me  whenever  I  could  be  of  any  comfort,  or  service 
to  him.  He  did  not  come  to  dinner,  but  wrote  an 
appreciative  answer,  thanking  me  for  my  kindness,  but 
said  in  his  present  state  of  mind  it  was  much  better  for 
him  to  be  alone.  That  is  all  I  have  known  of  him.  I 
haven't  seen  him  since;  John  says  he  is  hard  at  work  in 
his  office,  and  he  don't  hear  of  his  being  out  at  all,  only 
in  his  saddle,  he  is  out  on  his  horse  for  hours  every 
evening." 

While  Miss  Sargent  was  speaking,  Margaret  seemed  to 
scarcely  breathe,  for  fear  of  losing  a  word  that  she  said. 
She  did  not  stir,  but  sat  perfectly  still  with  her  head  in 
Miss  Sargent's  lap.  After  a  little  she  broke  the  silence: 

"Where  does  he  live?"  she  asked. 

"He  closed  the  house  on  Huron  avenue,"  said  Miss 
Sargent,  "you  know  he  rented  it  furnished,  and  has 
rooms  at  the  Hotel  Normandie,  I  understand."  Another 
long  silence  followed. 

"  Aunt  Helen  ?"  Margaret  said  at  last. 
•  "  Yes  dear,  what  is  it  ?"  But  as  Margaret  relapsed 
into  silence  again,  Miss  Sargent  said,  "  Ask  me  anything, 
Margaret;  were  I  in  your  place  there  would  be  many 
things  that  I  would  like  to  know,  and  I  will  be  glad  to 
tell  you  anything,  if  I  only  knew  what  you  cared  to 
know."  As  Miss  Sargent  spoke,  she  gently  pressed  her 
hand  on  the  head  that  lay  on  her  knee.  After  another 
silence  of  several  minutes,  Margaret  spoke  hesitatingly 
in  a  low  voice,  and  in  broken  sentences: 

"I  wish — I  knew— how — they  lived  together;  how — 
much  he  really  thought  of  her.  It's  impossible  to  stop 


318  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

Mrs.  Herman  talking,  I  have  had  to  listen  to  much  that 
was  painful  to  me:  she  says — they — adored  each  other — 
that  he  was — very  proud  of  her — and  that  she  worshiped 
him — do  you  know  any  thing  about  it?" 

"Nothing,  darling,  but  what  I  have  inferred.  She  was 
a  society  woman,  very  fond  of  dress,  and  they  say  after 
her.  marriage  she  dressed  richly,  extravagantly  so,  but  in 
good  taste.  You  know  I  don't  go  out  much,  and  I  rarely 
saw  either  of  them  after  their,  marriage.  I  met  them 
occasionally  at  dinners,  and  saw  her  a  few  times  at  the 
theater,  and  then  she  was  always  surrounded  by  gentle- 
men. Rodger  always  seemed  to  me,  in  some  way,  like 
an  attendant  in  the  background.  I  have  heard  that  he 
was  perfectly  infatuated  with  her  beauty  from  the  first. 
You  know  that  Rodger  and  I  have  been  great  friends  ever 
since  he  was  a  boy,  and  I  think  I  understand  his  nature; 
and  I  don't  believe  he  ever  loved  her.  Perhaps  he  did 
experience  what  men  call  an  infatuation,  though  how 
that  could  have  been,  is  past  my  comprehension.  I  saw 
very  little  of  them,  but  I  never  saw  any  evidence  of  affec- 
tion between  them.  I  know  something  of  human  nature, 
and  I  don't  believe  he  ever  loved  her.  I  think  he  made 
a  mistake,  and  that  he  soon  discovered  it,  but  was  man 
enough  to  abide  by  his  decision.  He  had  the  reputation 
of  being  a  devoted  husband,  but  there  was  no  evidence, 
that  I  could  see,  that  her  death  occasioned  him  any  great 
sorrow.  That  man  John  and  I  saw,  on  the  evening  fol- 
lowing his  wife's  funeral,  was  not  deeply  suffering.  He 
was  sad  and  thoughtful,  but  he  was  neither  heart  broken 
nor  desolate." 

After  a  little  Margaret  asked:  "Was  she  so  very  beau- 
tiful?" 

"I  never  thought  her  beautiful,"  replied  Miss  Sargent, 
"  she  certainly  had  a  fine  figure,  and  there  was  a  sort  of 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


319 


statuesque  appearance  about  her,  that  was  rather  imposing. 
They  say  that  men  thought  her  eyes  beautiful,  they  were 
not  beautiful  to  me,  they  were  simply  large,  and  well 
colored.  What  expression  she  might  have  thrown  into 
them,  for  the  sake  of  affecting  her  gentlemen  friends,  I 
can't  say,  but  I  never  saw  much  expression  of  any  kind 
in  them.  She  did  have  beautiful  hair,  it  was  abundant, 
and  a  lovely  color.  I  did  not  regard  her  as  a  woman  of 
much  mind,  and  I  know  she  was  not  a  cultivated  woman. 
I  should  have  said  that  she  was  the  last  type  of  woman 
that  would  have  attracted  Rodger;  for  he  certainly  is  a 
man  of  thought,  and  we  used  to  think  him  a  man  of  large 
heart,  and  of  straightforward  character." 

Miss  Sargent  ceased  speaking,  but  Margaret  neither 
stirred  nor  spoke,  and  Miss  Sargent  leaned  her  head  against 
the  back  of  her  chair,  and  silence  reigned  in  the  room. 
After  awhile  she  resumed  the  subject: 

"  One  thing  more,  Margaret,"  she  said,  "  Rodger  and  I 
never,  when  we  have  met,  have  referred  to  the  past  in 
any  way,  neither  to  you  or  Edgewood;  or  to  our  trips 
abroad  together.  Only  once  did  he  refer  to  your  father, 
and  that  was  in  a  letter  that  I  received  last  summer,  when 
we  were  at  Mackinaw.  In  that  letter  he  mentioned  both 
you  and  your  Aunt  Deborah  in  connection  with  your 
father.  I  did  not  think  best  to  show  you  the  letter  then, 
would  you  like  to  see  it  now?" 

"Yes,  very  much,"  replied  Margaret,  raising  her  head 
from  Miss  Sargent's  knee. 

Miss  Sargent  went  to  her  desk,  and  took  from  a  drawer 
the  letter  referred  to,  and  placed  it  in  Margaret's  hand, 
after  which  she  resumed  the  writing  laid  aside  on  Mar- 
garet's entrance.  Margaret  read  Rodger's  letter,  sitting 
on  the  hassock,  with  her  back  to  Miss  Sargent.  She  read 
it  through  very  rapidly  at  first,  and  then  turned  back,  and 


320  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

read  it  very  slowly;  going  over  some  sentences  several 
times.  Among  these  was  the  sentence,  in  which  he  said: 
"I  seem  to  be  waking  from  a  delirium;"  and  the  one 
where  he  spoke  of  the  old  Edgewood  home  as  being: 
"A  hallowed  spot,  apart  from  the  heat  and  strife  of 
ordinary  life;"  and  where  he  said:  "I  know  that  I  had 
forfeited  my  right  to  a  place  beside  him,  and  it  adds  to 
the  poignancy  of  my  grief  this  morning  to  feel  that  that 
was  so."  When  she  had  gone  over  the  letter  many  times, 
she  leaned  her  head  against  the  arm  of  the  large  chair, 
where  Miss  Sargent  had  been  sitting,  and  closed  her  eyes. 
For  nearly  an  hour  Miss  Sargent's  pen  sped  over  the  pages, 
and  Margaret  sat  in  motionless  thought.  Then  she  rose, 
and  with  the  open  letter  in  her  hand,  went  and  knelt  by 
Miss  Sargent's  side. 

"  You  never  can  know,  Aunt  Helen,  how  much  good  you 
have  done  me  this  morning,"  she  said  in  a  calm  voice,  as 
she  leaned  her  head  upon  Miss  Sargent's  shoulder. 

"I'm  very  glad,  dear,"  replied  Miss  Sargent,  as  she 
placed  her  hand  under  Margaret's  chin,  which  she  raised, 
so  that  she  could  look  into  the  girl's  face.  It  was  a  pale 
face,  with  eyes  that  held  a  sad  story,  but  just  then,  a  very 
calm  face,  with  an  expression  of  contentment  on  it. 

"I  cannot  tell  you  now,  Aunt  Helen,  but  after  a  little 
I  will,  just  what  you  have  done  for  me  to-day.  May  I 
keep  this  letter  of  Rodger's?  I  would  like  to  have  it." 
She  spoke  the  name  without  a  tremor  of  voice,  and  it 
was  the  first  time  that  Miss  Sargent  had  heard  it  from  her 
lips  for  nearly  two  years. 

"  Certainly,  Margaret,  but — "  Miss  Sargent  hesitated, 
looking  anxiously  into  Margaret's  face. 

"  Don't  fear,  Aunt  Helen,  I  think  I  know  what  your 
caution  would  be,  but  I  do  not  need  it.  Now  let  us  talk 
about  going  to  Europe,  I'm  very  anxious  to  go,  and  soon." 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAK  321 

"Well,  dear,  we'll  talk  it  over  with  John  after  lunch- 
eon," replied  Miss  Sargent. 

The  plans  were  easily  consummated  for  an  indefinite 
residence  abroad  for  Margaret  and  Miss  Sargent.  Miss 
Bond  was  included  in  their  first  plan,  but  she  positively 
refused  to  leave  home. 

"I  would  die  of  fear  before  I  got  half  way  across  that 
ocean,"  she  declared,"  and  then  I  can't  leave  this  kinder- 
garten. Don't  talk  to  me  of  Rome  and  the  Alps,  I  don't 
care  to  see  them;  I  know  I  couldn't  be  one-half  as  happy 
anywhere  as  here  with  these  children,  and  then  Mrs. 
Bray  will  need  me  more  than  ever,  if  you  are  away.  If 
you  have  no  objections,  Margaret,  suppose  we  have  Mrs. 
Bray  and  Eloise  come  into  the  house,  as  soon  as  you 
leave,  give  up  their  boarding  place,  I  mean,  and  come  here 
and  live  with  me  until  you  return.  We  will  close  your 
rooms,  both  your  bedroom  and  Sans  Souci,  and  Mrs. 
Bray  can  have  the  next  room  to  mine.  She  and  Eloise 
would  be  company  for  me,  and  then  when  I  go  East  in 
July,  they  can  stay  right  on  here  if  they  choose,  and  I'll 
be  back  by  the  first  of  September,  in  time  to  can  the  fruit, 
and  make  jelly  and  pickles,  and  have  the  house  ready  for 
the  opening  of  the  school  by  the  first  of  October." 

So  it  was  arranged,  and  in  June  Miss  Sargent  and  Mar- 
garet sailed"  for  the  other  side,"  as  Aunt  Deborah  always 
designated  Europe.  Miss  Sargent  went  directly  to  Paris, 
believing  that  Margaret's  low  spirits  would  be  improved 
by  the  most  decided  change  possible  from  the  secluded, 
eventless  life  she  had  led  the  past  winter.  The  result  con- 
firmed her  judgment.  Margaret  gradually  became  in- 
terested in  the  people  and  scenes  around  her,  and  she 
seemed  taking  hold  of  life  again.  But  she  wearied  of  the 
noise  and  confusion  of  Paris,  and  after  a  few  weeks  there, 
said  one  day  to  Miss  Sargent: 

21  'Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake. 


322  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"Haven't  we  had  enough  of  this  city,  Aunt  Helen? 
Suppose  we  go  to  Switzerland?" 

"Where  in  Switzerland  shall  it  be,  Margaret ?"  asked 
Miss  Sargent,  glad  to  go  anywhere  Margaret  might  wish. 

"Wherever  you  like.  Lucerne?  Interlaken  ?  Cham- 
ouny  ?"  queried  .Margaret. 

"Suppose  we  go  to  Lucerne  first,"  said  Miss  Sargent, 
"  stay  there  as  long  as  we  choose,  then  creep  up  to 
Chamouny,  loitering  on  the  way  as  we  like?" 

"I  have  always  thought  that  I  would  like  to  spend  an 
entire  summer  in  Chamouny,"  said  Margaret.  "  I  know 
I  should  never  tire  of  staying  there." 

"Well,  then,  we'll  go  straight  there  now,"  replied  Miss 
Sargent. 

"No,  I  like  your  plan  of  sauntering  from  place  to  place. 
If  you  really  don't  care,  suppose  we  go  directly  to 
Lucerne. " 

In  a  few  days  they  were  established  in  Lucerne,  where 
they  found  a  party  of  pleasant  English  people,  with  whom 
the  time  passed  by  so  pleasantly  in  excursions  among  the 
mountains,and  over  the  lake,  that  before  they  realized 
how  rapidly  the  summer  was  going,  they  were  told  that  it 
was  too  late  in  the  season,  for  either  a  pleasant  or  safe 
journey  to  Chamouny.  They  then  turned  southward,  and 
drifted  through  Milan,  Venice,  Genoa  and  Florence,  in 
the  most  delightful  leisurely  way,  and  late  in  December 
took  up  their  residence  for  the  winter  in  Rome.  Here 
they  found  several  old  acquaintances  from  Clinton,  who 
were  there  for  the  winter,  and  soon  were  surrounded  by 
friends. 

Margaret  had  never  been  in  Rome  before,  and  its 
architecture  and  art  seemed  to  arouse  a  new  life  within 
her.  She  cared  little  for  any  of  the  people  who  surrounded 
them,  but  spent  her  time  in  the  picture  galleries,  and  out 
of  doors,  being  as  much  alone  as  was  possible. 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


323 


Rodger  Latimer's  betrayal  of  Margaret  was  her  first, 
her  only  sorrow,  and  when  overwhelmed  by  the  flood,  no 
thought  of  the  sorrows  of  others  arose  in  her  mind  for 
months.  That  is  of  the  present,  every  day  sufferings  of 
the  human  family.  But  when  she  visited  the  Leek  street 
mission  kindergarten,  the  physical  and  moral  degradation 
which  she  saw  there,  the  disease,  pain  and  crime,  were  to 
her  a  revelation  of  the  universality  of  suffering.  Her 
after  knowledge  of  Mrs.  Bray's  sad  life,  deepened  the 
impression  received  in  the  mission  school,  and  she  soon 
came  to  regard  herself  as  one  of  thousands,  and  her  sor- 
rows as  part  of  the  common  experience  of  humanity. 
While  this  knowledge  did  not  assuage  her  grief,  it  quieted 
the  clamorous  cries  of  her  heart,  and  led  her  thought  from 
the  little  point  of  her  own  personality,  to  general  ex- 
periences; and  from  the  law  of  individual  happiness,  to 
the  larger  law  of  the  well  being  of  the  race.  During  the 
first  few  weeks  of  her  sojourn  in  Rome,  she  passed  through 
a  religious  transition  that  wrought  a  greater  change  in 
her,  than  had  the  experience  that  brought  her  out  of 
the  narrow  limitations  of  a  selfish,  personal  sorrow. 
Of  all  the  attractions  of  Rome,  St.  Peter's  was  the 
greatest  to  Margaret.  Her  esthetical  nature  was  strongly 
wrought  upon  by  the  music  and  pictures  of  the  great 
cathedral,  by  the  mystic  altar  ceremonies,  the  mysterious 
gloom  of  the  vast  nave  through  which  floated  the  peculiar 
odor  of  incense,  and  which  seemed  thronged  with  shadowy 
presences  from  the  remote  past.  She  attended  religious 
services  there  every  day,  and  as  she  knelt  in  worship 
beside  the  devout  Romanists  who  were  murmuring  their 
prayers,  surrounded  by  pictured  and  sculptured  apostles 
and  martyrs,  grouped  around  their  Incarnate  Lord;  she 
felt  that  her  religious  faith,  through  all  her  previous  life, 
had  been  as  narrow  and  selfish  as  her  sympathes  and  ideas 


324 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


of  suffering  had  once  been.  Here  was  symbolized  the 
faith  of  many  ages,  the  very  air  was  full  of  the  devotion 
of  centuries  to  one  God;  sin  and  sorrow  were  everywhere 
present,  but  everywhere  triumphed  over  by  repentance 
and  exultation.  There  came  to  her  a  new  realization  of 
the  omnipresence  of  the  Infinite,  and  there  sprung  up 
within  her  a  faith  in  a  universal  love  that  filled  all  time, 
and  stretched  across  the  world  enfolding  every  human 
being  in  a  compassionate  tenderness.  Before  this  faith, 
nationalities  and  creeds  vanished,  cold  forms  shriveled 
into  nothingness,  and  questioning  doubts  were  dumb. 
Love  was  supreme,  and  trust  in  God,  the  universal  law 
that  brought  universal  peace. 

With  great  wisdom,  Miss  Sargent  kept  her  hands  off 
Margaret's  soul  through  this  transition  period.  She  read 
the  girl  aright,  and  trusted  fully  the  pure  instinct  of  her 
nature  and  her  well  balanced  mind.  But  she  was  dis- 
tressed that  Margaret  had  gained  neither  health  or  flesh, 
by  all  of  the  changes  of  climate  and  scenery  through 
which  she  had  passed;  nor  was  she  the  only  one  who 
regarded  Margaret  with  anxiety.  The  slight,  pale  girl, 
dressed  in  deep  black,  was  a  familiar  figure  to  those  who 
frequented  the  picture  galleries  and  the  cathedral;  and 
many  a  woman  turned  to  look  after  her  as  she  passed, 
with  an  expression  of  sympathy  and  solicitude  on  her  face. 
Whenever  her  health  was  referred  to  in  her  presence,  Mar- 
garet insisted  that  she  was  well,  perfectly  so.  This 
declaration  of  Margaret's  did  not  at  all  assure  Miss 
Sargent,  but  she  plainly  saw  that  nothing  could  be  done 
for  Margaret,  in  any  special  way,  but  that  she  must 
continue  to  rely  on  pleasant  and  healthy  surroundings, 
as  she  had  done  since  leaving  home. 

The  months  passed  rapidly  and  as  the  spring  advanced, 
Miss  Sargent  and  Margaret  spent  many  pleasant  hours 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  325 

planning  a  tour  for  the  summer  and  autumn.  One  day  as 
they  were  thus  engaged,  a  servant  brought  in  a  package 
of  letters.  There  were  several  for  Margaret  that  brought 
tier  news  from  home,  and  told  her  atl  about  the  success  of 
Mrs.  Bray's  kindergarten,  and  the  happiness  that  Mrs. 
Bray  and  Miss  Bond  daily  found  in  their  association  with 
their  little  children.  Margaret  was  so  thoroughly  occu- 
pied she  did  not  observe,  that  as  Miss  Sargent  glanced 
over  her  letters,  she  quickly  raised  her  eyes  from  one  she 
held  in  her  hand,  to  Margaret's  face,  and  immediately 
went  to  her  own  room.  When  Margaret  had  finished 
reading  her  last  letter,  she  seated  herself  at  a  table  and 
commenced  writing  replies,  and  here  Miss  Sargent  found 
her  an  hour  after.  She  laid  her  hand  on  Margaret's 
shoulder,  who  looked  up  with  an  expression  of  startled 
apprehension,  into  the  solemn  face  that  leaned  over  her. 
There  were  tears  on  the  eyelashes,  and  the  cheeks  were 
wet. 

"  Here  is  a  letter  from  Rodger,"  said  Miss  Sargent  in  a 
grave  voice,  full  of  emotion.  "  He  left  it  to  my  judg- 
ment, Margaret,  whether  or  not  to  give  it  to  you.  You 
surely  ought  to  have  it.  I'm  going  to  my  room  to  do 
some  writing,  and  I'll  leave  it  with  you." 

She  placed  the  letter  in  Margaret's  hand,  and  left  the 
room. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

We  left  Mr.  Latimer  steadily  at  work  in  midsummer  in 
his  office.  There  was  little  business  at  that  season  of 
the  year,  but  being  alone  in  the  office,  he  found  himself 
sufficiently  occupied  through  the  business  hours  of  the 
day,  and  when  these  were  closed  he  usually  mounted  his 
horse  and  roamed  through  the  deserted  park,  or  wan- 
dered aimlessly  around  the  surrounding  country.  Fre- 
quently he  would  take  his  dinner  at  the  Park  club  house, 
and  sometimes  at  some  suburban  restaurant,  miles  from 
the  city.  His  object  seemed  to  be  to  get  away  from  peo- 
ple and  be  alone,  either  in  the  woods  or  on  the  lake  shore. 
The  night  would  often  find  him  far  from  home,  and  fre- 
quently at  midnight  he  would  be  riding  slowly  through 
the  silent  streets,  between  the  converging  rows  of  gas 
lights,  that  reached  away  in  silent  brilliancy  toward  his 
hotel.  His  life  was  one  of  almost  absolute  solitude.  His 
manner  was  as  grave  as  that  of  a  sorrowing  man  of  sixty, 
and  as  to  the  real  life  back  of  the  silent  lips  and  serious 
mien,  no  one  knew  anything.  It  might  be  one  of  pensive 
sorrow,  of  deep  regret,  of  stern  self-reproach,  of  chaotic 
hopes,  or  one  of  simply  calm  endurance.  After  seeing  a 
suitable  stone  placed  at  his  wife's  grave,  and  arranging 
for  flowers  to  be  laid  thereon  every  Sabbath  morning,  he 
went  no  more  to  the  cemetery.  Whether  the  past  or  the 
future  possessed  his  thoughts,  no  one  could  tell.  His  face 
did  not  show  a  discontent,  but  rather  a  growing  restful- 
ness,  as  the  summer  passed  into  autumn. 

One  day  late  in  September,  he  took  his  dinner  at  sunset 
at  a  road-house  on  what  was  called  the  Edgewood  road, 
two -thirds  of  the  way  from  Clinton  to  Edgewood.  After 
326 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


327 


dining,  when  he  mounted  his  horse  at  the  door,  he  sat 
still  in  the  saddle  a  few  moments,  as  though  undecided 
where  to  go,  then  turned  his  horse  toward  Edgewood. 
But  whatever  his  wish,  or  determination,  may  have  been, 
after  going  straight  ahead  a  few  rods,  he  turned  his 
horse  around,  and  cantered  back  to  the  city.  The  next 
day  he  did  not  go  to  his  office  after  his  luncheon,  but  took 
his  horse  at  his  hotel,  and  rode  directly  to  Edgewood. 
When  he  reached  the  village,  he  was  surprised  to  see  so 
little  change  in  the  place.  It  seemed  to  him,  that  the 
changes  in  the  material  world  should  have  kept  pace, 
somewhat,  with  the  volcanic  changes  he  felt  there  had 
been  in  his  life,  since  last  he  was  in  these  quiet  streets.  As 
he  counted  the  months,  he  was  surprised,  and  almost 
angry,  to  find  that  it  was  about  two  years  since  he  was 
there  last.  Ten  years,  yes,  twenty,  ought  not  to  have 
changed  him  so  much,  as  he  said  to  himself,  he  was 
changed.  The  college  year  had  not  opened,  and  the  quiet 
of  the  summer  vacation  pervaded  the  village.  He  rode 
slowly  through  several  of  the  principal  streets,  scarcely 
seeing  man  or  woman.  After  a  little  he  drew  rein  before 
Professor  McVey's  house,  dismounted,  tied  his  horse  to  a 
jing  fastened  to  one  of  the  elm  trees,  and  went  up  the 
gravel  walk.  As  he  stepped  onto  the  front  piazza,  George, 
the  coachman,  who  was  mowing  the  lawn,  came  toward 
him.  Fora  moment  neither  recognized  the  other,  then 
Mr.  Latimer  spoke:  "Why,  George,  I  am  glad  to  see  you 
again,  how  do  you  do  ?" 

"I  am  very  well,  sir,"  George  replied,  taking  Mr. 
Latimer's  proffered  hand,  as  he  whisked  his  hat  from  his 
head,  "and  welcome  back  to  the  old  house,  sir." 

"You've  had  some  sad  changes,  George,  since  I  was 
here. " 

"  Yes,  sir,  the  old  master's  gone,  and  it  was  a  sad  day 
for  us  all,  when  he  went." 


328  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"Miss  Bond  has  gone  East,  I  understand,  and  Miss 
McVey  is  in  Europe,  is  there  any  one  in  the  house?" 

"  No,  sir,  none  but  me  and  my  wife.  I'm  married,  sir, 
I  am,"  said  the  man  with  a  happy  grin,  "and  my  wife  is 
the  cook.  We  are  taking  care  of  the  place." 

"Married  are  you,  George?  Well,  that  was  a  good 
thing  for  you  to  do,  but  can  you  tell  me  if  I  can  look  at 
some  books  in  Professor  McVey's  library  ?  Are  the  books 
in  the  same  old  place,  or  has  the  house  been  changed?" 

"Not  changed  at  all,  only  for  the  little  ones,  sir,  the 
master's  room  is  all  there.  I'll  go  round  and  open  the 
door  for  you.  It's  like  seeing  a  man  come  to  his  own 
home,  to  see  you  back  again." 

George  unlocked  the  front  door  from  within,  and  as 
Mr.  Latimer  stepped  into  the  hall,  he  opened  the  library 
door  for  him  to  enter,  and  leaving  the  front  door  open  to 
admit  the  fresh  air  into  the  close  smelling  hall,  he  went 
back  to  his  mowing.  "Changed  only  for  the  little  ones," 
thought  Mr.  Latimer,  as  he  hung  his  hat  on  the  rack ; 
"what  could  he  mean?"  Then  he  stepped  back  a  little, 
and  stopped  midway  between  the  open  library  door  and 
the  parlor  door,  that  stood  ajar.  He  pushed  the  parlor 
door  open  and  looked  in.  A  sacrilegious  change  seemed 
to  have  been  made  in  that  room.  None  of  the  pretty 
chairs  that  used  to  be  there,  met  his  eye;  the  sofa;  small 
tables,  books,  curtains,  scarfs,  cushions,  everything  that  he 
once  thought  made  the  room  a  charming  parlor,  for  a  beau- 
tiful girl,  were  gone.  The  same  carpet  was  still  on  the 
floor,  and  his  heart  beat  faster,  as  his  eyes  rested  on  Mar- 
garet's piano,  that  he  had  never  seen  out  of  her  own  room 
before.  On  the  piano  was  a  cover,  embroidered  by  her 
own  hands;  how  often  he  had  watched  the  delicate  fingers, 
as  they  stitched  in  that  border  of  goldenrod.  That  piano 
cover  had  been  Margaret's  work  for  odd  moments,  for 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


329 


many  months.  Frequently  Rodger  had  taken  it  from  her 
lap  and  laid  it  one  side,  when  he  wished  her  to  walk,  or 
ride  with  him;  and  once  when  he  thought  her  eyes  rested 
too  exclusively  upon  it,  as  he  was  sitting  by  her,  he 
placed  his  hand  over  the  stem  she  was  stitching,  and 
watched  with  delight  her  efforts  to  remove  it  with  her 
own  small  fingers.  It  all  came  back  to  him;  and  how 
when  she  found  it  impossible  to  remove  his  hand,  she 
slightly  pricked  each  of  his  fingers  with  her  needle;  and 
the  half-frightened,  half-ashamed  look,  that  came  into  her 
face',  with  a  rush  of  color,  when  she  saw  that  she  had 
drawn  blood  with  her  needle  point.  How  beautiful  she 
looked  that  day!  and  how  carefully  she  nursed  the 
wounded  finger  for  him!  Now  the  folds  of  the  coverhung 
motionless,  and  each  spray  of  goldenrod  seemed  a  silent 
accuser.  He  turned  from  the  room,  only  glancing  at  the 
row  of  tables  placed  against  the  wall,  and  the  double  row 
of  small  chairs  that  were  near  them,  and  crossed  the  hall 
into  the  study.  Here  nothing  was  changed,  all  was  just 
as  it  used  to  be.  The  chairs  were  in  their  old  places, 
Professor  McVey's  large  one,  near  the  corner  of  the  fire- 
place, with  the  table,  holding  a  student  lamp,  and  cov- 
ered with  books,  by  its  side;  and  Margaret's  little  rock- 
ing chair  not  far  off,  by  a  round  table.  He  closed  the 
door,  shutting  himself  into  the  room,  and  seated  himself 
on  the  sofa.  The  books  were  arranged  in  their  old  order 
on  the  shelves,  and  the  entire  room  seemed  in  readiness 
for  the  entrance  of  its  master.  The  thought  that  he 
might  come  in  at  the  door,  seat  himself  in  his  chair,  and 
take  up  a  magazine,  and  begin  reading,  seemed  much 
more  natural  to  Rodger  Latimer,  than  that  he  was  lying 
in  Oakwood  cemetery.  The  personality  of  Professor 
McVey  was  very  distinct  to  Rodger;  it  stood  out  in  the 
clear,  deep-cut  lines  of  a  living  man,  with  nothing  of  the 


33° 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


mistiness,  or  vagueness  of  death  connected  with  it.  He 
sat  alone  in  the  silence  of  that  room  for  an  hour;  the 
memories  of  the  past  rapidly  awakening,  and  accumu- 
lating, until  he  was  completely  possessed  by  them.  As  he 
looked  at  the  books  Professor  McVey  used  to  handle,  a 
keen  appreciation  of  the  guileless  nature  of  the  man  came 
over  him.  "  How  different,"  he  thought,  "  from  the  people 
with  whom  I  have  lived  during  the  past  two  years;"  then 
looking  around  the  library — "  There  was  nothing  sordid 
or  selfish,  or  vulgar  here;  how  he  loved  his  books!  he 
lived  with  the  great  dead,  and  no  guile  could  find  place 
in  his  mind.  Simple  old  man!  pure  as  a  saint!  how  Mar- 
garet loved  him!  and  how  he  loved  her!  Dear,  darling 
Margaret!  how  /  loved  her."  He  suddenly  rose,  as  a 
wave  of  feeling  swept  over  him,  rocking  his  soul  to  and 
fro,  in  an  agony  for  Margaret's  presence.  He  crossed  the 
room  to  the  door  that  opened  into  her  Sans-Souci.  He 
stood  irresolute;  he  longed  to  enter  her  room;  it  was  as 
though  she  were  on  the  other  side  of  the  door  waiting  for 
him.  He  turned  the  knob,  and  swung  the  door  back,  the 
folds  of  the  portiere  hung  straight  and  still  before  him. 
There  was  not  a  sound  in  the  house,  not  a  sound  reached 
his  ear  from  the  yard,  or  the  street;  a  silence  like  that  of 
death  was  around  him.  Before  he  opened  the  door,  it 
seemed  as  though  Margaret,  alive,  well  and  happy  as  of 
old,  was  waiting  him  on  the  other  side;  now,  as  he  stood 
before  that  motionless  curtain,  utter  silence  in  the  room 
beyond,  it  seemed  as  though  Margaret,  dead,  was  lying 
just  the  other  side  of  the  curtain.  He  could  not  raise  it, 
and  pass  within  ;  it  was  like  invading  a  tomb.  He  dropped 
upon  his  knees,  and  laying  hold  of  the  curtain  with  both 
of  his  hands,  he  buried  his  face  in  its  folds.  Once- he  had 
a  right  to  enter  that  room,  not  now;  he  had  forfeited  it  for- 
ever, and  by  the  wrong  done  had  lost  the  love  of  her  he 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  33  r 

had  always  loved.  He  saw  it  all  now.  Fool!  fool!  And 
for  what?  Never  was  so  rich  a  heritage  bartered  for  so 
meager  a  mess  of  pottage.  In  this  house  there  had  been 
the  purity  of  Eden.  No  breath  of  murky  air  ever  entered 
its  portals;  never  a  whisper  that  might  not  have  been 
spoken  on  the  housetop ;  never  was  there  a  look  here 
that  a  saint  might  not  have  faced.  Oh!  Margaret!  Mar- 
garet! angel  in  purity,  woman  in  love!  Never  had  her 
hand  felt  an  unhallowed  touch,  no  man's  lips  beside  his 
own  and  her  father's  had  ever  touched  her  face,  to 
another  man  she  had  never  given  a  thought.  Unlawful 
sentiment  would  have  crept  ashamed  from  her  presence; 
and  no  love  of  adulation  could  ever  have  tempted  her  to 
step  from  the  pedestal  of  her  womanly  dignity.  If  he 
could  only  cast  his  soul  at  her  feet,  and  put  the  hem  of 
her  garment  to  his  lips!  He  groaned  aloud,  and  pressed 
the  folds  of  the  curtain  which  he  held  in  his  hands,  hard 
against  his  face,  as  visions  of  the  home  he  once  called  his 
own  passed  before  him,  followed  by  the  vision  of  the 
home  he  might  have  had.  The  loss  seemed  too  bitter, 
his'  fate  unnaturally  hard.  How  long  he  knelt  there  he 
did  not  know.  When  he  rose  to  his  feet  he  felt  weak  and 
exhausted,  he  stood  for  a  few  moments  with  bowed  head 
close  to  the  motionless  portiere;  then  closed  the  door 
softly  upon  it  and  left  the  house,  mounted  his  horse  and 
turned  toward  the  city.  He  had  thought  on  his  way  out 
how  he  would  walk  through  the  orchard,  sit  on  the  south 
piazza  under  the  vines,  and  visit  the  stable  and  lay  his 
hand  upon  the  neck  of  Margaret's  horse;  but  he  had  not 
calculated  on  the  flood  of  memories  that  overwhelmed 
him  as  soon  as  he  stepped  into  the  house,  the  sense  of 
Margaret's  presence,  and  of  the  great  wrong  he  had  done 
her,  accompanied  with  the  conviction  that  he  had  blighted 
his  own  life  by  the  committal  of  that  wrong,  which 


332 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


seized  him  as  he  stood  before  the  curtain  that  divided  him 
from  her  room.  On  his  way  back  he  thought  the  situation 
all  over,  and  determined  to  accept  in  a  manly  way  the 
result  of  his  action,  by  devoting  himself  to  his  profession 
and  doing  what  good  he  could  in  the  world  with  his 
money  and  with  any  legal  influence  he  might  gain.  But 
when  did  youth  ever  accept  a  situation  opposed  to  its 
desires  until  baffled  on  every  side  and  defeated  in  every 
conceivable  plan  to  change  the  situation!  Although  Mr. 
Latimer  worked  assiduously  in  his  office  through  the 
autumn  and  winter  months,  he  found  time,  as  soon  as  his 
elastic  nature  began  to  recover  its  tone  from  the  shock 
occasioned  by  the  conviction  that  Margaret  was  lost  to 
him  forever,  to  turn  over  in  his  mind  all  of  the  possi- 
bilities of  the  case.  He  planned  and  rejected  a  great  many 
imaginary  courses  of  action  and  their  results.  He  pro- 
posed schemes  to  himself  and  abandoned  them  as  soon  as 
they  were  ready  to  be  put  into  execution ;  and  he  was  at 
times  flushed  with  the  hope  natural  to  his  sanguine  tem- 
perament, and  then  chilled  with  the  despair  that  was  just 
as  natural  to  his  sensitive  organization.  He  could  learn 
nothing  regarding  Margaret  from  Judge  Sargent,  beyond 
the  simple  fact  that  she  had  been  with  his  sister  in  Rome 
during  the  winter.  The  judge  knew  nothing  of  his  sis- 
ter's plans  for  the  spring  or  summer.  At  last  Rodger 
determined  to  write  to  Miss  Sargent.  He  dared  not  write 
to  Margaret,  and  he  felt  he  had  no  right  to  go  unbidden 
into  her  presence.  The  remembrance  of  Miss  Sargent's 
unvarying  kindness  to  him,  and  of  the  almost  romantic 
interest  that  she  evinced  in  Margaret  and  himself  during 
the  summer  they  all  passed  together  in  Lausanne,  added 
to  the  strong  love  that  he  knew  she  felt  for  Margaret,  gave 
him  courage  to  address  her.  At  any  rate,  be  the  result 
what  it  might,  it  was  doing  no  wrong  to  Margaret  for  him 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE 


333 


to  write  to  Miss  Sargent,  who  he  felt  sure  would  be  both 
wise  and  full  of  tender  appreciation  of  all  concerned  in 
any  action  that  she  might  take.  As  soon  as  he  came  to 
this  decision,  he  put  it  into  execution,  and  sent  the  fol- 
lowing letter  to  Miss  Sargent: 
My  Dear  Friend: 

Do  not  be  offended,  I  beg  of  you,  that  I  address  you  on  a  subject, 
that  perhaps  you  may  think,  I  ought  not  to  have  the  temerity  to  ever 
speak  of  to  any  one.  I  acknowledge  that  I  feel  like  a  culprit  before  a  judge, 
and  tremble  in  fear  of  the  sentence  that  you  may  pass  against  me.  But 
whatever  the  result  may  be,  I  must  tell  you  all  there  is  in  my  heart,  and 
entreat  that  you  will  hear  me,  with  what  patience  you  can.  When  I 
think  of  the  old  acquaintance  there  was  between  yourself  and  my  father 
and  mother,  and  the  many  delightful  days  I  have  passed  with  you  in  the 
house  of  our  dear  Professor  McVey,  and  those  delightful  summers  that 
we  four  passed  together  in  Europe:  I  feel  that  I  can,  with  some  confi- 
dence, tell  you  every  thought  of  my  heart;  with  the  hope  that  you  may 
read  my  actions  of  the  past  two  years,  in  the  light  of  the  knowledge  that 
you  must  have  gained  of  the  man,  both  of  his  weakness,  and  of  what 
worth  he  may  have  possessed.  Then  when  I  think  of  your  character, 
crystallized  into  uncompromising  honesty,  and  your  high  moral  standard, 
that  does  not  admit  of  the  least  deviation  in  feeling,  or  intention ;  remem- 
bering, at  the  same  time,  your  tender  love  for  Margaret,  I  feel  that  it  is 
hopeless  to  expect  from  you,  anything  but  condemnation,  and  perhaps 
what  seems  to  me  in  my  extremity,  a  severe,  unmerited,  condemnation. 
I  wish  that  you  could  know  every  feeling  of  my  heart,  and  every  theught 
of  my  mind,  from  the  August  of  two  years  ago,  when  I  left  Edgewood 
with  a  love  for  Margaret,  as  great  and  unselfish,  as  I  can  conceive  it  pos- 
sible for  a  man  to  feel  for  a  woman;  until  last  August,  when  I  was  fully 
recovered  from  a  delirium,  and  the  bitter  disappointment  following  it,  to 
find  the  love  for  Margaret  as  strong  as  ever  in  my  heart,  combined  with 
a  reverence  for  her  nature,  ten-fold  greater  than  I  had  ever  felt  during 
the  years  of  our  engagement.  Could  you  follow  each  step  of  that  strange 
delirium,  or  fancy,  or  passion,  perhaps,  with  your  knowledge  of  psychol- 
ogy and  of  the  human  heart,  you  might  be  able  to  analyze  it  from  its  de- 
sire, to  its  last  bitter  regret.  But  I  say  frankly  to  you,  that  I  do  not 
now  understand  it.  I  do  not  wish  to  say  one  word  in  extenuation  of  my 
conduct,  I  have  no  such  word  to  utter.  It  was  an  experience  I  cannot 
respect,  and  out  of  which  I  am  blind  to  see,  that  any  good  can  come  to 
any  one.  I  think  I  was  the  only  sufferer,  and  very  thankful  I  am,  to  be 


334 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


able  to  believe  this.  It  was  just  that  I  should  bear  the  natural  retribu- 
tion, as  I  was  the  transgressor  against  principle.  Perhaps  my  eyes  have 
been  opened  to  a  clearer,  and  deeper,  vision  by  the  experience  of 
these  two  years,  but  be  that  as  it  may,  I  know  that  Margaret  has  so  risen 
in  my  judgment,  by  conscious  and  unconscious,  comparison  with  the 
women  I  have  met,  that  I  regard  her  as  the  most  perfect  woman,  in  every 
respect,  that  I  have  ever  known.  I  used  to  say  this,  years  ago,  but  then 
it  was  more  a  matter  of  feeling,  an  unconscious  recognition  of  her  worth, 
through  the  instinct  of  love,  which  sometimes  gives  more  of  a  negative, 
t!  an  a  positive  judgment.  Now  I  know,  I  painfully  realize,  under  the 
fear  that  I  have  lost  her  forever,  what  it  is  in  her  nature,  that  is  of  such 
priceless  value.  I  can  give  you  no  idea  of  the  reverence  that  I  feel  for 
her.  I  am  glad  that  she  has  never  lived  in  the  atmosphere  created  by 
some  women,  who  are  called  good  women,  that  I  know,  or  did  know,  a 
year  ago.  I  am  glad  that  the  simple  majesty  of  her  nature,  was  never 
vitiated  by  their  trivialities,  to  use  the  kindest  possible  language.  As  I 
have  awakened  to  an  accurate  knowledge  of  her  worth,  so  have  I  become 
conscious  that  I  have  always  loved  her,  and  never  loved  any  woman  be- 
side her.  My  eyes  fill  with  tears,  as  I  think  of  the  gentle,  happy  girl  of 
three  years  ago.  Oh!  why  was  I  left  to  such  blindness!  Margaret  must 
have  suffered;  I  see  it  now,  I  felt  it  last  September,  as  I  knelt  outside  of 
her  door,  in  the  old  house  at  Edgewood.  She  must  have  suffered,  and 
through  my  act!  So  constant,  and  trustful,  and  loyal!  think  of  her 
loyalty!  I  know,  that  never  in  one  thought,  or  in  one  moment's  senti- 
ment, did  her  heart  turn  from  me;  and  I  have  learned  that  this  loyalty 
of  nature  is  of  the  greatest  value;  nor  did  the  possibility  of  such  a 
moment's  disloyalty  of  sentiment  exist  in  her.  My  love  for  her  was  so 
interwoven  with  my  very  being,  by  our  association  during  our  years  of 
childhood,  and  years  of  maturing  thought,  that  I  was  not  aware  of  its 
power.  I  have  come  to  know  that  that  little  woman  is  more  to  me  than 
all  in  the  universe  beside;  she  is  inextricably  entwined  around  my  life, 
and  her  praise  and  appreciation  have  come  to  be  my  only  professional 
ambition.  My  money  is  valueless  to  me  because  it  cannot  gratify  her 
tastes,  and  pass  through  her  hands  to  the  needy.  As  for  a  home,  I  shall 
go  without  one  to  my  last  day,  unless  I  can  have  one  created  by  her 
presence.  I  cannot  imagine  a  fireside  as  belonging  to  me,  where  she  is 
not.  I  do  often  dream  of  one,  beside  which  she  sits,  of  a  home  made 
blessed  by  her  presence-  1  have  dreamed  of  late,  of  the  possibility  of 
gaining  her  forgiveness;  and  of  picking  up  the  threads  of  my  life,  which 
I  so  heedlessly  broke,  and  of  placing  them  in  her  hands — her  liule 
woman's  hands — to  weave  together  into  a  beautiful  home  life.  Margaret 


RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 


335 


must  regard  me  with  a  sort  of  horror,  as  a  moral  bandit.  I  cannot  see 
how  she  can  have  for  me,  any  other  sentiment  than  that  of  contempt.  It 
would  be  just  if  she  should  forbid  me  ever  to  come  into  her  presence 
again,  but  then  I  am  conscious  of  possessing  some  worth,  and  some 
truth.  I  dealt  with  her  falsely,  and  treated  her  cruelly;  but  I  am  neither 
false,  or  cruel.  I  do  not  understand  how  I  could  have  wronged  her  so 
wickedly,  it  seemed  so  natural,  so  easy  then;  and  seems  so  monstrous 
now.  I  do  not  ask  Margaret  to  forgive  me,  to  love  me;  but  I -do  beg  of 
her  to  permit  me  to  be  with  her.  Not  as  a  lover;  no  word  of  love  shall 
pass  my  lips,  or  be  expressed  by  eye,  or  touch;  only  let  me  be  with  her; 
let  us  read,  and  talk  and  walk  together,  as  we  three  used  to  years  ago  I 
wish  Margaret  to  know  the  Rodger  of  to-day,  as  thoroughly  as  she 
thought  she  knew  the  Rodger  of  three  years  ago.  I  wish  to  live  my 
life,  and  thought,  out  unreservedly  before  her.  I  would  like  to  have  our 
lives  run  close  together,  through  consecutive  days  and  weeks;  so  th  it 
she  might  see  the  man  under  various  circumstances,  and  in  various 
moods;  and  judge  him  for  herself.  I  wish  to  stand  with  uncovered 
heart,  befc  e  her  woman's  eyes;  stand  long,  with  the  searching  light  of 
her  honest  nature  thrown  upon  me.  I  would  like  her  to  follow  to  its  in- 
citing motive,  every  action  of  my  life,  if  she  can  thread  such  an  inscru- 
table labyrinth.  I  know  how  miserably' weak  1  have  been,  how  false  to 
principle  in  that  one  lamentable  instance  but  I  can  trust  Margaret  to  deal 
gently  and  show  mercy.  Could  she  permit  me  this  probation,  then  I 
would  accept,  without  a  word  of  remonstrance,  her  command  to  leave 
her,  and  never  come  into  her  presence  again ;  should  it  be,  that  her  old 
love  was  dead,  past  all  possible  resurrection.  I  am  not  ashamed  to 
admit  that  such  a  sentence  would  banish  me  to  a  life  of  loneliness,  but  I 
could  not  complain,  as  it  would  be  my  own  hand  that  had  hewed  out  the 
road  to  the  desert.  I  think,  my  dear  Miss  Sargent,  that  you  understand 
my  heart,  and  see  what  I  am  hoping  that  you  can  do  for  me.  I  dare  not 
address  Margaret.  I  have  no  right  to  do  so.  But  can  you  not  approach 
her  in  my  behalf?  Make  what  use  of  this  letter  your  judgment  may 
dictate.  If  Margaret  will  permit  me  to  go  to  her,  please  send  me  a  cable- 
gram to  that  effect.  One  word  will  be  enough.  I  shall  not  misunder- 
stand it.  You  may  smile  and  think  me  impetuous,  but  more  than  life  is 
at  stake,  and  since  I  have  been  inspired  with  a  slight  hope,  I  find  this 
uncertainty  almost  unendurable. 

A  few  lines  expressive  of  personal  obligation  and  con- 
taining goo.d  wishes,  closed  the  letter  that  Mr.  Latimer 
sent  to  the  address  he  had  obtained  from  Judge  Sargent. 
Immediately  after  mailing  it,  he  went  to  a  steamship 


336  RODGER    LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 

agent,  and  with  him  calculated  the  probable  time  that 
must  elapse  before  he  wouH  receive  a  reply.  He  then 
engaged  his  passage  in  what  they  thought  would  be  the 
first  outgoing  steamer,  after  the  cablegram  would  reach 
him.  The  few  weeks  that  followed  were  weeks  of 
feverish  anxiety,  of  alternating  hope  and  fear.  Rodger 
could  not  concentrate  his  mind  upon  his  office  business, 
nor  could  he  read  or  sleep.  He  held  himself  strictly  to 
business  hours,  his  other  waking  hours  were  passed 
mostly  in  the  saddle.  He  rode  long  and  far,  often  until 
both  horse  and  rider  were  tired  out.  As  the  time 
approached  when  he  might  reasonably  expect  some  mes- 
sage from  Miss  Sargent,  he  found  his  strength  of  will 
inadequate  to  the  control  of  his  feelings,  and  he  was 
thrown  into  the  greatest  despondency,  his  mind  being 
filled  with  sad  forebodings.  What  hope  he  might  have 
had  when  he  wrote  to  Miss  Sargent  had  so  nearly  died  out, 
that  when  at  last  a  messenger  boy  stood  before  him  with 
a  foreign  dispatch,  he  felt  it  was  his  sentence  of  death,  or 
banishment.  He  sent  the  boy  from  the  room  and  locked 
the  door;  his  limbs  trembled  beneath  him,  and  he  seated 
himself  in  the  nearest  chair,  as  he  held  the  cablegram 
in  his  hand.  His  heart  beat  violently,  he  felt  dizzy,  and 
the  room  seemed  to  rock  around  him.  It  was  several 
moments  before  he  could  master  himself  sufficiently  to 
open  the  envelope;  and  even  when  he  held  the  folded 
sheet  in  his  hand,  he  did  not  dare  turn  his  eyes  to  it.  At 
last  when  he  did  read  the  message,  the  words,  "  Come 
to  Baden,"  overcame  him,  and  as  he  exclaimed,  "Thank 
God!"  he  dropped  his  head  on  his  clasped  hands  on  a 
table  near  by. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

It  was  toward  the  evening  of  a  pleasant  day  in  the  last 
of  May,  that  Miss  Sargent  was  sitting  on  the  piazza  of  a 
hotel  in  Baden,  resting  after  a  long  walk.  She  was  sitting 
close  to  an  open  window  talking  with  Margaret,  who  was 
seated  in  the  reception  room  within,  her  crossed  arms  resting 
on  the  window  sill.  It  was  early  in  the  season  and  they 
were  enjoying  the  quiet  of  the  hotel,  that  did  -not  con- 
tain more  than  half  a  dozen  guests  beside  themselves: 
who  like  them,  were  wise  enough  to  keep  in  advance  of 
the  annual  swarm  of  tourists  through  Switzerland  and 
Germany,  in  order  to  enjoy  the  clean  rooms  and  the  ser- 
vice of  the  goodly  number  of  servants  who  were  waiting 
the  rush  of  travelers.  The  arrival  of  carriages  from  the  sta- 
tion was  anxiously  watched  every  day,  for  fear  that  a  large 
party  of  noisy  people  from  somewhere  might  invade 
their  quiet  home  life.  There  was  another  thought  in  the 
mind  of  both  Margaret  and  Miss  Sargent,  whenever  a 
carriage  approached  the  house,  for  both  knew  that  Mr. 
Latimer  had  had  time  to  reach  them ;  and  although  they 
did  not  speak  upon  the  subject,  each  was  expecting  him 
daily.  As  a  carriage  drew  up  to  the  piazza  that  May 
evening,  the  eyes  of  both  were  turned  toward  it,  and  as  a 
man  stepped  out,  they  immediately  recognized  the  tall 
form  and  broad  shoulders  of  Rodger  Latimer.  He  saw 
Miss  Sargent,  but  did  not  see  Margaret,  who  had  risen  to 
her  feet  and  retreated  behind  the  window  curtain.  As  he 
came  toward  Miss  Sargent  with  uncovered  head,  she  rose 
to  meet  him,  and  extended  both  of  her  hands  in  cordial 
welcome.  He  took  them  in  his  with  a  close  grasp,  as 
though  to  express  his  affectionate  gratitude  to  her,  by  the 
22  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake,  (337) 


338  RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

pressure  he  gave.     She  turned  to  the  window,  and  said: 

"Margaret,  Rodger  has  come." 

Margaret  immediately  stepped  partially  in  view  and 
extended  her  hand,  which  Rodger  held  for  scarcely  an 
instant,  as  she  quickly  withdrew  it  as  soon  as  she  felt  the 
touch  of  his.  For  one  moment  they  looked  into  each 
other's  eyes,  and  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  tell  which 
face  was  the  paler;  then  her  eyelids  drooped  so  low  the 
lashes  seemed  to  lie  on  the  white  cheeks.  For  half  a 
minute  Rodger  gazed  on  the  slight  figure  draped  in  black, 
the  thin,  pale  face,  the  well  remembered  soft  curling  hair 
lying  across  the  white  forehead,  then  he  turned  abruptly 
and  walked  quickly  away  across  the  carriage  road  and  the 
lawn,  up  a  hill,  and  plunged  into  a  grove,  where  he  threw 
himself  down  upon  the  ground  at  the  roots  of  a  tree.  He 
was  not  prepared  for  the  change  that  he  saw  in  Margaret. 
And  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  responsible  for  it  all, 
even  to  the  emblem  of  mourning  that  enveloped  her. 
When  he  last  saw  her,  she  was  a  merry  girl,  all  gladness 
and  beauty,  the  embodiment  of  happiness  and  health, 
floating  about  in  delicate  colors  and  fleecy  white,  decked 
in  ribbons  and  flowers,  with  a  song  on  her  lips,  and  a 
world  of  love  in  her  eyes.  He  pulled  his  hat  down  low 
over  his  face  as  a  vision  of  the  girl  he  had  looked  upon  a 
few  moments  ago  rose  before  him.  The  large  sad  eyes, 
the  wasted  figure  clothed  in  black,  the  pitiful  mouth,  and 
the  cold  touch  of  the  thin  hand,  struck  an  agony  of  re- 
morse to  his  soul.  He  had  broken  her  heart,  he  said  to 
himself,  he  had  ruined  her  health,  he  had  clothed  her 
body  in  black.  It  was  in  vain  he  reminded  himself  that 
she  was  wearing  conventional  mourning  for  her  father,  that 
Professor  McVey  was  dead,  and  that  would  account  for 
her  black  clothes,  and  partially  account  for  her  sadness. 
He  could  not  calm  himself,  he  could  not  forgive  himself. 


RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  339 

For  an  hour  he  sat  there  alone  under  the  trees,  a  victim 
of  his  imagination  and  conscience,  then  he  rose  and 
walked  slowly  back  to  the  hotel,  and  went  straight  to  his 
room.  The  necessary  occupation  of  unpacking  his  trunk, 
taking  a  bath  and  dressing  for  dinner,  changed  somewhat 
the  current  of  his  thoughts.  And  after  dinner,  which  he 
took  alone  in  the  great  dining-room,  as  the  usual 
table  d'  hote  had  been  served  some  time  before,  he  started 
in  search  of  Margaret  and  Miss  Sargent,  in  a  calm,  though 
rather  depressed,  state  of  mind.  He  found  them  in  their 
cosy  parlor,  Miss  Sargent  reading  aloud  by  a  shaded 
lamp,  and  Margaret  lounging  on  a  sofa  near  by.  Both 
rose  at  his  entrance,  and  Miss  Sargent  turned  a  large 
chair  toward  the  table,  in  which  he  seated  himself,  on  her 
invitation. 

"Now  tell  us  all  about  John,  and  Clinton,"  said  Miss 
Sargent,  as  soon  as  he  was  seated.  "  When  did  you  see 
him  last?" 

"  The  day  I  left  the  city,  but  he  would  give  me  no 
message  to  you;  he  said  he  wrote  so  frequently  there  was 
nothing  left  to  say.  I  drove  to  your  home  on  my  way  to 
the  depot." 

"  Rather  out  of  your  way." 

"  Yes,  about  two  miles,"  replied  Rodger,  "  but  I  thought 
you  would  like  the  latest  news,  and  I  can  assure  you  that 
your  brother  never  looked  in  better  health.  It  was  a  cold 
afternoon  that'  I  was  there,  and  he  had  a  blazing  fire, 
which  he  was  enjoying  with  his  usual  satisfaction." 

"I  don't  know  what  John  will  do  when  July  comes," 
said  Miss  Sargent,  "  his  occupation  will  be  gone.  You 
know  he  usually  goes  up  to  Lake  Superior  in  August,  and 
I  tell  him  he  only  goes  because  a  fire  is  a  necessity  up 
there,  in  the  evenings,  the  year  around.  He  would  not 
come  with  you?" 


340  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

"  I  knew  better  than  to  ask  him." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so."  As  there  was  no  reply  made  to 
this  remark  of  Miss  Sargent's,  and  as  she  feared  an  awk- 
ward silence,  she  asked  abruptly,  simply  for  the  sake  of 
saying  something:  "Don't  you  think  we  have  a  pretty 
room  here,  Rodger?" 

"You  have  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Latimer,  looking 
around  the  room.  "That  is  an  unusually  fine  engraving," 
he  added,  rising  and  crossing  the  room  to  look  at  a 
picture  on  the  wall.  As  he  stood  before  it,  Miss  Sargent 
spoke  to  Margaret : 

"  Do  you  know,  dear,  where  that  last  'London  Times' 
is?" 

"I  think  it  is  in  my  room,  would  you  like  it?"  said 
Margaret. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Rodger  had  heard  her  voice, 
and  the  sound  lashed  him  like  a  whip;  he  winced  and 
shrank  from  it.  It  was  so  pathetically  sweet,  so  patient, 
so  emotionless  and  measured  in  its  tones. 

"This  is  my  doing  also,"  he  said  to  himself. 

"Yes,  if  you  please,"  replied  Miss  Sargent  to  Margaret, 
"I  would  like  to  see  what  Rodger  will  think  of  that  art 
criticism." 

Margaret  went  into  an  adjoining  room  and  returned 
with  the  paper,  which  she  gave  to  Miss  Sargent,  who 
said: 

"Will  you  read  this  to  us,  Rodger?  Margaret  began 
it  this  morning,  but  we  gave  it  up  for  a  walk." 

"Certainly  I  will,"  said  Mr.  Latimer,  turning  from  the 
wall. 

Miss  Sargent's  heart  was  touched  with  sympathy,  as 
she  noticed  the  distressed  look  upon  his  face.  She  was 
doing  the  best  she  could  for  the  young  people,  but  she 
began  to  feel  as  though  she  had  two  combustibles  on  her 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  34 1 

hands,  which  were  being  brought  together  over  a  powder 
magazine.  Those  two  hearts  were  evidently  charged  to 
the  brim,  and  a  word,  or  tone,  might  be  the  spark  to  set 
fire  to  the  hoarded  powder.  Mr.  Latimer  read  the  article 
designated;  it  was  a  long  one,  and  he  was  a  good  reader, 
and  soon  all  three  were  interested  in  the  matter  under 
consideration.  When  he  finished  reading  he  and  Miss 
Sargent  entered  into-a  lively  discussion  of  the  subject. 
Margaret  said  nothing,  but  both  Mr.  Latimer  and  Miss 
Sargent  included  her  in  the  conversation  by  turning  fre- 
quently toward  her,  and  directly  addressing  her.  •  She 
evinced  her  interest  in  all  that  was  said  by  looking  back 
and  forth  from  one  to  the  other,  as  each  was  speaking, 
and  in  this  way  she  and  Rodger  frequently  looked  into 
each  other's  eyes,  though  Margaret  withdrew  her  gaze 
the  moment  that  it  encountered  Rodger's. 

It  was  late  when  Mr.  Latimer  rose  to  go,  and  the  good- 
nights  were  formal.  Miss  Sargent  asked  him  if  he  would 
take  breakfast  with  them  at  eight  o'clock  the  next  morn- 
ing and  walk  with  them  afterward,  which  jnvitation  he 
gladly  accepted. 

The  next  morning  after  breakfast,  when  Mr.  Latimer 
was  equipped  for  the  walk  over  hills  and  rocks,  he  went 
to  Miss  Sargent's  parlor  for  the  two  ladies.  He  found 
Miss  Sargent  with  her  stick  in  her  hand,  tying  her  hat  on 
before  a  mirror.  Margaret  was  standing  beside  a  table, 
absently  turning  the  leaves  of  a  magazine.  He  asked: 
"Are  you  not  going  to  walk  with  us,  Margery?"  Mar- 
garet returned  no  answer.  She  could  not  speak,  she 
could  not  even  raise  her  eyes;  she  was  so  overwhelmed 
with  the  memories  that  old  name  brought  out  of  their 
graves.  She  quickly  turned,  and  slipped  into  her  room, 
the  door  of  which  was  near  by.  Both  Mr.  Latimer  and 
Miss  Sargent  supposed  Margaret  had  gone  for  her  hat, 


342 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


but  as  she  did  not  return,  Miss  Sargent  said:  "  I  wonder 
what  has  become  of  Margaret;  she  is  usually  ready  before 
I  am.  I'll  go  and  see  what's  the  matter."  She  found 
Margaret  sitting  in  a  chair  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
convulsed  with  weeping. 

"Why,  Margaret,  my  child!"  she  exclaimed,  as  she 
pressed  Margaret's  head  against  her  side  as  she  stood  by 
her.  "  What  has  hurt  you  ?  was  it  the  old  name,  dear  ?" 

"Yes,  yes,  oh!  Aunt  Helen,  I  cannot  bear  it!  All  of 
my  old  happiness  and  all  of  the  misery  has  come  back  to 
me  so,  I  cannot  bear  it!" 

Miss  Sargent  soothed  her  as  best  she  could.  "  I  don't 
know,  Margaret,"  she  said,  "as  you  could  hope  to 
meet  him  without  this  rush  of  memories  at  first,  I'm 
thankful  it  did  not  come  yesterday.  It  will  pass,  dear, 
and  then  you  can  meet  him  with  more  calmness  I  know 
it  "is  very  hard,  shall  I  tell  him  that  he  better  go  off 
somewhere  for  a  while  and  come  back  in  a  few  weeks,  or 
meet  us  in  Chamouny  ?" 

"No,  no!  I  would  not  have  him  leave  for  the  world." 

Miss  Sargent  smiled  as  she  laid  her  hand  gently  on  the 
head  that  rested  against  her.  "I  am  sure  he  will  do  just 
as  you  wish,  Margaret,"  she  said,  "he  may  not  have 
suffered  as  you  have,  but  his  face  plainly  shows  that  he 
has  been  having  a  sad  time  of  it." 

"Go  and  take  your  walk,  Aunt  Helen.  I  shall  not  be 
able  to  go  out  this  morning,  perhaps  not  to-day.  Don't 
keep  Rodger  waiting  any  longer;  he  will  think  strange  of 
it.  Leave  me  alone;  it  will  be  better,  I'll  get  over  this." 

Miss  Sargent  thought  a  moment,  then  said-  "  Perhaps 
it  will  be  best,  yes,  we'll  go  and  walk.  But  remember, 
dear,  in  all  of  your  grief  that  Rodger  has  the  worst  of  it. 
You  have  always  done  right;  he  is  the  one  who  has 
wronged  another.  I'd  rather,  a  thousand  times,  be  in 
your  place  than  his." 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


343 


"Aunt  Helen,"  said  Margaret,  raising  her  pinched, 
tear-blotted  face,  "  if  Rodger  says  anything,  don't  blame 
him  too  much,  don't  be  too  hard  on  him." 

"You  can  trust  me,  darling.  You  know  I  always 
liked  him,  and  I  think  he  is  acting  nobly  now;  doing 
the  best  any  man  could  possibly  do."  Miss  Sargent 
went  to  Mr.  Latimer,  who  raised  inquiring  eyes  to  her 
face,  as  she  came  alone  from  Margaret's  room.  She 
only  said:  "We  will  have  to  go  without  Margaret  this 
morning,  Rodger;  it  is  best,  perhaps,  that  she  be  alone 
for  a  few  hours,  but  I  am  quite  sure  she  will  go  with 
us  to-morrow." 

Mr.  Latimer  picked  up  his  hat  from  the  floor,  beside 
his  chair,  and  followed  Miss  Sargent  from  the  room, 
without  saying  a  word.  He  walked  in  silence  where 
she  led  the  way,  but  hardly  heard  the  sound  of  her 
voice  as  she  spoke  to  him.  She  did  not  talk  much  as 
they  went  up  the  hillside,  and  they  traversed  two 
miles  or  more,  in  comparative  silence;  for  he  scarcely 
uttered  a  word  in  reply  to  anything  she  said.  At  last 
she  ceased  in  her  attempts  to  keep  up  any  conversation. 
After  a  long  while  Rodger  spoke: 

"  Pardon  me,  Miss  Sargent,  if  I  speak  of  myself,  but 
this  uncertainty  is  becoming  more  than  I  can  bear. 
My  presence  here  evidently  causes  Margaret  pain.  I 
must  not  stay,  if  it  makes  her  suffer,  I  have  caused  her 
sorrow  enough,  already.  Do  you  think  she  can  ever 
forgive  me?" 

"I'm  glad  that  you  have  spoken  of  her,  Rodger,  but 
I  hardly  know  what  to  say  to  you;  you  must  be  patient 
and  self-forgetting,  for  awhile." 

"Don't  misunderstand  me,  I  pray;  I  could  wait  a 
century,  if  I  were  sure  of  her  love  in  the  end,  or  sure 
that  I  could  make  her  happy;  but  it  seems  as  though 
my  presence  tortured  her." 


344 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


"  No,   it  does  not." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?" 

"  I  asked  her  this  morning,  when  I  was  in  her  room 
just  before  we  left,  if  I  should  ask  you  to  go  away  for 
awhile." 

"What  did  she  say;  please  give  me  her  own  words." 

"  She  said,  No,  no,  I  would  not  have  him  leave. 
Remember,  Rodger,  what  the  dear  girl  has  suffered. 
It's  natural  your  coming  should  bring  up  all  of  the 
past,  and  that  the  remembrance  of  the  happiness  that 
you  and  she  once  had  together,  and  of  all  her  sorrow 
that  followed,  should  sweep  over  her  with  irresistible 
force.  Don't  make  too  much  of  this;  it  had  to  come, 
but  in  a  few  days  it  will  pass  away,  and  then  you  and 
she  can  begin  a  new  acquaintance." 

"  I  don't  wish  a  new  acquaintance,  I  want  the  old  one, 
of  three  years  ago." 

"  That  you  can  never  have  again.  After  such  ex- 
periences as  you  and  Margaret  have  gone  through,  the 
old  life  is  impossible." 

"Is  her  heart  dead  toward  me?" 

"Dead'"  exclaimed  Miss  Sargent  in  a  voice  that 
startled  Mr.  Latimer,  and  which  immediately  give  him 
great  comfort ,  he  turned  and  looked  at  her,  and  met  a 
smile  of  calm  assurance.  They  walked  on  in  silence 
for  a  little,  then  Mr.  Latimer,  looking  far  away  across 
the  country,  said  in  a  solemn  tone: 

"  What  a  fearful  thing  it  is,  not  to  do  right.  I  see 
plainly  enough  now,  that  I  was  utterly  in  the  wrong. 
I  must  have  been  mad,  blind.  I  cannot  understand 
how  it  could  have  appeared  to  me  as  it  did  at  the 
time,  I  seemed  to  have  been  whirled  off  my  feet,  and  to 
have  been  carried  away  by  a  force  outside  of  myself.  Poor 
Margaret,  I  don't  see  how  she  can  possibly  forgive  me." 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


345 


"  You  must  not  use  that  word,  Rodger,  Margaret  has 
never  felt  the  least  unforgivingness  toward  you." 

"Do  you  think  she  can  possibly  love  me  again  ?  has 
she  any  of  the  old  love  in  her  heart  toward  me?" 

"I  must  not  tell  you  what  I  think.  Isn't  it  enough 
that  she  said  you  might  come,  and  stay  with  her?" 

"Yes,  it  is;  it's  all  I  can  hope  for,  more  than  I  de- 
serve. But  please  tell  me,  Miss  Sargent,  did  she  read 
the  letter  I  wrote  to  you?  did  you  have  to  persuade 
her  to  permit  me  to  come?" 

"No,  I  did  not  persuade  her  at  all.  I  didn't  say 
one  word  to  influence  her.  I  would  not  take  that  re- 
sponsibility: I  wouldn't  dare  to.  I  gave  her  your  letter 
the  day  I  received  it,  and  she  took  it  to  her  room, 
and  was  there  alone  for  two  hours;  then  she  went  off 
and  walked  alone  for  another  two  hours;  when  she  re- 
turned, she  said  to  me,  'Aunt  Helen,  you  may  telegraph 
Rodger  to  come,  if  you  think  it  would  be  best:'  I  told 
her  I  had  no  judgment  to  give,  that  I  dared  not  have 
any;  that  it  was  a  matter  her  own  heart  and  judgment 
should  decide.  Only,  I  said  to  her,  that  she  ought  to 
fully  understand  all  that  was  involved  in  such  per- 
mission." 

"  And  she  gave  that  permission  ?" 

"Yes." 

After  several  moments  of  silence,  Rodger  said:  "I 
never  addressed  her  by  any  other  name  than  Margery,  as 
you  know;  no  one  beside  me  ever  called  her  Margery; 
when  I  spoke  the  name  to-day,  you  saw  how  quickly  she 
left  me ;  shall  I  continue  to  call  her  by  the  dear  olcfname, 
or  shall  I  change  it  to  Margaret  or  Miss  McVey  ?  I  would 
like  to  do  whatever  would  be  most  agreeable  to  her  " 

"  Undoubtedly  the  old  name  was  the  cause  of  the  tears 
in  which  I  found  her,  but  I  believe  it  would  hurt  her  if 


346  RODGER    LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

you  used  any  other.      But,  Rodger,  follow  your  heart;  an 
honest  heart  rarely  makes  a  mistake. " 

"  If  I  followed  my  heart,"  Mr.  Latimer  said,  with  a  sad 
smile,  "I  should  burst  through  all  the  barriers,  and  take 
Margery  in  my  arms  and  tell  her  how  much  I  love  her, 
and  hold  her  there  forever." 

There  was  not  much  more  talk  between  the  two.  Rodger 
seemed  revolving  something  in  his  mind,  and  Miss  Sargent 
left  him  undisturbed  in  his  cogitations.  They  strolled 
over  the  hills,  through  the  groves,  and  back  to  the  Con- 
versationJiaus;  where  in  one  of  the  booths,  Mr.  Latimer 
purchased  several  pretty  trifles,  which,  with  some  beautiful 
leaves  he  had  gathered  on  his  walk,  he  placed  on  Mar- 
garet's lap,  as  they  found  her,  on  their  return,  sitting 
on  a  bench  under  the  trees,  waiting  for  them. 

"You  missed  a  delightful  walk,  Margery,"  he  said,  as 
he  laid  the  leaves  and  curiosities  on  her  knee,  "but  judging 
from  what  I  have  seen  of  Miss  Sargent's  pedestrian  en- 
thusiasm, this  morning,  it's  a  loss  easily  made  up.  I  feel 
sure  that  there  will  not  be  a  ruin,  castle,  hill  or  spring, 
that  we  shall  not  visit;  and  on  foot  too,  during  the  next 
few  weeks."  Then  turning  to  Miss  Sargent,  he  continued, 
"  I'm  as  hungry  as  a  wolf,  do  you  take  luncheon,  or  are 
you  living  on  two  meals  a  day?" 

"  Xo,  we  take  a  bite  at  noon,  but  we  have  nothing  at 
this  hour  that  will  satisfy  a  wolf,  I  forewarn  you.  I 
didn't  think  it  was  so  late,"  continued  Miss  Sargent, 
looking  at  her  watch,  "  it's  two  o'clock." 

"May  I  join  you  in  the  dining-room,  after  I  have 
washed  off  some  of  this  dirt?"  asked  Mr.  Latimer,  looking 
at  his  large  white  hands. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

After  the  awkward  reserve  of  the  first  few  days  had 
worn  off,  the  three  old  friends  dropped  into  the  in- 
formal relations  which  they  had  held  years  before; 
and  as  soon  as  the  first  excitement  of  meeting  Rodger 
was  over,  Margaret  not  only  surprised  herself,  but 
Miss  Sargent  also,  by  the  calmr.ess  of  feeling,  and 
naturalness  of  manner,  that  became  habitual  to  her. 
Mr.  Latimer's  life  immediately  became  one  of  de- 
votion to  the  comfort  and  pleasure  of  the  two  ladies; 
and  so  perfectly  were  his  arrangements  made,  their 
results  seemed  only  those  that  would  naturally  come 
from  the  care  of  competent  servants,  belonging  to  a 
well  managed  hotel.  Did  they  wish  to  make  an  ex- 
cursion, the  carriage,  or  donkeys,  were  of  the  best, 
and  at  the  door  on  the  minute.  Did  a  rain  come  up 
when  they  were  in  the  forest,  or  on  the  mountains, 
umbrellas  and  water-proofs  were  brought  out  from  some 
hiding  place  to  protect  them.  Were  they  miles  from 
the  hotel  at  noon,  an  ample  luncheon  always  met  them. 
The  number  of  magazines  and  papers  that  usually  lay 
on  their  sitting-room  table,  was  doubled,  and  their  bill 
of  fare  was  noticeably  improved,  by  the  addition  of  rare 
game  and  choice  fruits. 

They  lived  out  of  doors  most  of  the  time,  usually 
leaving  the  house  soon  after  breakfast,  and  not  re- 
turning until  driven  home  by  the  approaching  darkness. 
Margaret  was  specially  fond  of  this  out  of  door  life; 
and  she  was  always  ready  to  go  in  the  morning,  and 
never  ready  to  return  at  night.  They  spent  days  in 
the  pine  woods,  and  at  the  old  castle:  and  made  ex- 

347 


348  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

cursions  up  and  down  the  valley,  and  through  the 
forests,  but  their  favorite  place  for  riding,  reading,  and 
lounging,  was  among  the  rocks  on  the  Battert.  Miss 
Sargent  said  that  she  must  draw  the  line  somewhere, 
and  declared  that  it  should  be  at  donkeys.  There  was 
nothing  she  would  not  drive  in,  no  place  that  she 
would  not  go,  that  could  be  reached  on  foot,  or  in  a 
wheeled  vehicle;  but  when  it  came  to  going  on  donkeys, 
Rodger  and  Margaret  must  go  without  her.  At  first, 
Margaret  hesitated  about  going  off  alone  with  Rodger, 
even  for  a  short  ride,  but  as  Miss  Sargent  seemed  to 
look  at  it  as  a  matter  of  course  that  she  would  go,  and 
Rodger  appeared  to  regard  it  in  the  same  light,  her 
hesitancy  vanished,  and  it  soon  came  about  that  she 
and  Rodger  would  be  off  together  for  hours  on  their 
donkeys.  At  such  times  Rodger  gave  her  the  same 
thoughtful  care,  that  always  characterized  his  manner 
toward  herself  and  Miss  Sargent,  but  in  no  wise  was 
his  manner  different  toward  her  when  alone,  from  what 
it  was  when  Miss  Sargent  accompanied  them.  If  he 
took  hold  of  the  bridle  of  her  donkey  with  a  reverent 
hand,  as  though  the  beast  was  carrying  an  angel  over 
rough  ways,  she  was  not  aware  of  the  devotion  in- 
volved in  the  simple  act;  nor  did  she  know  the  force 
of  will  that  held  the  hand  steady,  that  placed  her  foot 
in  the  stirrup.  She  never  saw  the  intensity  of  passion 
that  at  times  overflowed  his  eyes  as  they  were  fixed 
upon  her  face,  as  they  walked  under  the  trees  in  the 
forest,  for  on  the  slightest  motion  of  her  head  toward 
him,  his  eyes  were  withdrawn;  and  when  they  again 
looked  into  hers,  they  were  as  free  from  tumultuous 
passion  as  her  own.  Rodger  never  spoke  a  word,  gave 
a  glance,  or  permitted  himself  a  tone  of  voice,  that 
could  recall  the  past,  or  that  would  lead  Margaret  to 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  349 

infer,  that  he  even  thought  of  holding  any  other  re- 
lation to  her,  than  that  of  the  friend  he  then  was. 
When  they  first  began  to  go  out  alone  together,  Mar- 
garet feared  he  might  take  advantage  of  the  situation 
and  declare  his  love.  Then  as  soon  as  his  calm  man- 
ner reassured  her,  with  the  inconsequence  of  a  girl, 
she  wondered  if  he  really  did  love  her,  as  much  as  he 
had  said  in  his  letter  to  Miss  Sargent.  His  associ- 
ation with  Margaret  had  come  to  be  one  of  such  in- 
formal confidence,  he  was  constantly  on  the  alert  not 
to  mar  it,  or  to  startle  her  sense  of  security.  The 
three  lived  together  as  members  of  the  same  family; 
always  taking  their  meals  together,  meeting  early  in 
the  morning,  and  separating  late  at  night.  If  Mr.  Lat- 
imer  was  ready  for  breakfast  first,  and  he  usually  was, 
he  would  take  a  book  and  sit  on  a  bench  that  was 
under  a  tree  in  front  of  Miss  Sargent's  bedroom  win- 
dow, and  read,  until  she  called  to  him  from  the  window 
that  she  and  Margaret  were  ready.  They  read  aloud 
to  each  other  all  sorts  of  books;  novels,  science,  and 
philosophy,  and  freely  exchanged  the  various  opinions, 
the  book  in  hand  chanced  to  awaken  in  their  minds. 
During  these  frequent  conversations,  Rodger  became 
aware  that  the  range  of  Margaret's  thought  had  en- 
larged in  the  last  three  years,  especially  on  religious 
subjects.  He  once  felt  that  he  knew  every  corner  and 
angle  of  her  mind,  could  analyze  her  every  thought, 
trace  it  back  to  its  source,  and  forward  to  its  result 
on  her  character;  but  he  found  her  much  changed,  and 
at  times,  her  thought  was  elusive,  and  escaped  his 
grasp.  He  felt  this  almost  painfully  one  day,  as  they 
were  sitting  on  a  rocky  hillside  together,  Miss  Sar- 
gent having  sent  them  off  alone,  excusing  herself  on 
the  score  of  some  writing  to  do.  Rodger  had  been 


35° 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


reading  an  hour  to  Margaret,  when  he  laid  the  book 
aside,  and  stretching  himself  on  the  ground  beside  her, 
rested  his  head  on  his  hand  that  was  supported  by  his 
elbow.  "This  is  a  beautiful  world,"  he  said  as  his 
eyes  roved  up  and  down,  and  across,  the  hillside,  the 
plain,  the  woods,  and  distant  mountains. 

"Yes,"  replied  Margaret,  "this  is  a  beautiful  world, 
a  wonderful  world.  I  think,  Rodger,  that  my  early 
association  with  books,  and  bookish  men,  led  me  to 
over-estimate  the  world  of  ideas,  the  mental ;  and  to 
under  estimate  matter.  See  how  matter  is  tossed  up 
into  forms  of  beauty  all  around  us.  I  can  easily  un- 
derstand how  some  heathen  have  worshiped  nature." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Rodger,  "this  matter  of  worship 
is  not  very  plain  to  me.  I  believe  I  really  like  the  services 
in  those  great  Catholic  cathedrals  better  than  any  other. 
Their  symbols  are  so  engrossing,  they  capture  the  senses 
so  completely,  that  one  feels  religous  whether  he  is  or 
not." 

"I  know  that  is  so,"  said  Margaret,  "I  have  felt  it. 
In  St.  Peter's,  last  winter,  I  was  perfectly  permeated  and 
possessed  by  the  influence  of  the  ceremonies,  the  pictures, 
and  the  music.  It  all  did  me  great  good  then,  but  it  was 
because  of — "  she  hesitated,  Rodger's  eyes  were  on  her 
face,  but  her  hesitancy  was  but  for  a  moment — "  my 
peculiar  mental  condition.  I  needed  something  to  help 
me  over  a  chasm,  back  to  my  religious  faith." 

Rodger  dropped  his  eyes  to  the  ground  and  commenced 
to  scrape  the  moss  off  a  small  stone  near  him  with  his 
thumbnail.  "And  I  found  just  what  I  needed  in  that 
great  temple,"  continued  Margaret;  "but,  Rodger,  you 
soon  outgrow  that  spectacular  sort  of  effect  that  surrounds 
you  there,  and  turn  even  from  St.  Peter's,  for  a  more 
immediate  sense  of  God.  You  soon  get  beyond  all  of 
that  color,  and  line,  and  sound." 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


351 


"But  that  color,  and  line,  and  sound,  are  just  what  I 
need,"  rejoined  Rodger,  "as  a  help  to  me.  There  is 
something  tangible  in  that  music,  and  the  kneeling 
people,  and  the  praying  priest.  I  believe  I'd  make  a 
pretty  good  Catholic." 

"I  could  much  easier  be  a  Quaker  than  a  Catholic," 
said  Margaret.  "  I  find  a  tendency  in  my  nature  to  do 
away  with  forms,  and  days,  and  seasons.  Such  things  are 
no  great  hejps." 

"You  don't  need  external  helps,"  replied  Rodger. 
"You  are  better  than  I  am,  Margery.  Perhaps  your  belief 
in  a  supreme  being,  and  in  moral  responsibility,  isn't 
stronger  than  mine.  Let  me  read  you  a  few  lines  I  have 
here,"  continued  Rodger,  sitting  up  and  taking  out  his 
pocketbook,  from  which  he  took  a  bit  of  folded  news- 
paper. "  I  heard  Horace  Kent  make  a  speech  last  spring, 
and  one  thought  of  his  impressed  me  so  strongly,  I  cut  it 
out  of  the  paper  the  next  morning  and  have  carried  it 
ever  since.  Let  me  read  it  to  you:  'It  is  when  you  come 
to  those  moral  principles  that  touch  the  welfare  of 
humanity,  that  the  world  accepts  no  compromise;  and  his 
stature  is  alone  great,  who  puts  himself  in  line  with  those 
fundamental  principles  of  justice  and  liberty  which  we 
may  call  providential.  I  say  providential,  because  all 
circumstances,  all  events,  all  times,  of  peace  and  war,  of 
action  and  reaction,  carry  them  forward  to  their  ultimate 
destination,  and  we  may  therefore  reverently  say,  that 
they  are  in  the  special  keeping  and  hands  of  Him,  who 
created  this  world  from  a  perfect  purpose,  and  to  a  perfect 
end. '  " 

"•Let  me  see  that,"  said  Margaret,  as  Rodger  ceased 
reading.  He  placed  the  slip  in  her  outstretched  hand. 
She  read  it  several  times  over  to  herself,  then  read  it 
aloud — "  'Created  this  world  from  a  perfect  purpose,  to  a 


352 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


perfect  end.'  That  is  beautifully  said;  why  isn't  the 
whole  of  everything  there?  Was  this  a  political  speech, 
or  was  it  at  one  of  your  bar  dinners?" 

"  No,  it  was  at  a  meeting  to  indorse  Gladstone's  Home 
Rule.  The  entire  speech  was  an  eloquent  one,  full  of 
wisdom;  but  no  thought  in  it  struck  me  as  forcibly  as 
this.  For  days  after  hearing  it,  I  kept  repeating  to  my- 
self, 'From  a  perfect  purpose,  to  a  perfect  end. '  Now  I 
have  as  strong  faith  as  you,  in  such  a  doctrine  as  this;  in 
a  personal  good  providence,  but  that  is  all  a  matter  of  the 
intellect.  You.  and  some  few  others  that  I  have  known 
in  my  life,  seem  to  possess  a  something  else,  that  I  know 
nothing  of." 

"Arid  it  is  just  this  something  else,"  pursued  Margaret, 
"that  is  the  most  desirable  of  all  knowledge,  or  ex- 
perience. You  think  me  fanatical,  don't  you?" 

"  No,  I  do  not,  but  I  am  frank  to  say,  Margery,  I  don't 
understand  you;  and  I  am  equally  frank  to  admit,  that 
you,  and  some  others  I  know,  do  possess  something  before 
which  I  bow  my  head.  A  something  I  do  not  possess. 
Your  father  had  it — I  knew  him  well — but  there  was  one 
part  of  his  nature,  one  part  of  his  life,  that  I  could  not 
enter.  I  was  shut  out  of  it  by  my  ignorance.  I  recognized 
the  presence  of  this  something,  and  could  see  its  influence 
on  his  life.  I  could  not  call  it  superstition,  and  it  was 
the  farthest  removed  from  fanaticism.  You  would  call  it 
religious  faith,  I  suppose."  Margaret  turned  her  head  and 
looked  into  the  distance.  Rodger  observed  her  sad  face, 
and  was  distressed.  He  put  out  one  of  his  hands,  and 
held  it  a  few  inches  above  one  of  her.-,  that  lay  on  the 
folds  of  her  dress,  that  rested  on  the  ground  between  them. 
"Pardon  me,  Margery,  have  I  hurt  you?"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  replied,  turning  toward  him,  as  she  drew 
her  hr.nd  away  from  under  his  that  had  not  touched  hers. 


RODGER    LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 


353 


"  It  is  very  pleasant  to  hear  you  speak  of  dear  papa.  I 
know  you  and  he  loved  each  other.  I  think  of  him  every 
day.  How  good  he  was!  what  a  beautiful  life  he  lived!" 

"Indeed,  his  was  a  beautiful  life,"  assented  Rodger,  "and 
I'm  beginning  to  see  of  late,  that  there  are  a  great  many 
beautiful  things  in  this  world.  I'm  beginning  to  believe, 
in  a  vague  sort  of  way,  that  this  world  is  going  on  very 
well,  in  spite  of  all  the  wrong  doing  and  suffering  we 
know  there  is  in  it.  It  does  seem,  at  times,  like  a 
dreadful  botch;  I  cannot  understand  the  means  to  the 
end,  but  I  am  beginning  to  have  faith  in  the  ultimate 
outcome  of  it  all."  As  Margatet  was  about  to  reply,  the 
laugh  of  a  child  diverted  their  attention.  It  came  from  a 
little  child  that  was  tottering  among  the  stones,  followed 
by  its  nurse,  some  way  below  them,  to  one  side. 

"That  must  be  a  stupid  girl,"  said  Rodger,  looking  at 
the  child,  "why  don't  she  keep  a  child  of  that  age  on  the 
grass,  instead  of  bringing  it  up  here  among  the  stones. " 

"Children  are  wonderful  creatures,"  said  Margaret, 
gazing  after  the  child. 

"  Why,  Margery,  one  would  suppose  from  your  decisive 
tone,  that  you  knew  a  great  deal  about  children.  I  did. 
not  know  you  ever  saw  any,  beside  that  little  diabolical 
philosopher  next  door  to  you,  that  Novalis  Herman." 

"  Novalis  is  a  dreadful  child,  but  I  am  thankful  to  say, 
I  know  many  other  children  beside  Novalis.  You  don't 
know  anything  of  my  kindergarten  experience,  do  you?" 

"No,  tell  me  what  you  mean,"  said  Rodger,  "your 
kindergarten  experience'?" 

"  Yes,  my  kindergarten.  It's  a  beautiful  thing,  Rodger, 
to  live  with  little  children."  Then  she  went  on  and 
related  to  him  her  visit  to  the  Leek  Street  Mission  Kin- 
dergarten, her  meeting  with  Mrs.  Bray,  and  her  organ- 
ization of  a  kindergarten  for  her  in  the  Edgewood  home 


354 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


parlor.  Rodger's  face  grew  very  serious,  as  she  proceeded 
in  her  narration,  and  from  time  to  time  he  asked  her  a 
question  or  two,  her  answers  to  which  enabled  him  to 
come  to  an  accurate  conclusion  regarding  the  whole 
affair.  He  fully  understood  her  benevolence  toward  the 
friendless,  destitute  woman;  and  something  of  Margaret's 
isolation  from  society  at  that  time,  and  her  need  of  occu- 
pation. Margaret  finished  her  recital  by  saying:  "I 
can't  tell  you.  Rodger,  what  a  blessing  dear  Mrs.  Bray 
and  those  children  were  to  Auntie  Deb  and  me,  that 
winter." 

That  winter!  It  all  rushed  into  Mr.  Latimer's  mind. 
He  cast  his  eyes  to  the  ground  a  moment,  then  raised 
them  to  Margaret's  face.  When  Margaret  commenced  to 
speak  of  her  kindergarten  she  did  not  think  of  the  pos- 
sible effect,  recalling  so  consecutively  the  events  of  those 
months  of  loneliness  and  sorrow,  might  have  upon  her- 
self; and  was  frightened  to  feel  how  completely  she  was 
mastered  by  the  memories  she  had  called  up.  Involun- 
tarffly  she  turned  her  white  face  full  upon  Rodger.  His 
heart  was  full,  but  he  dared  not  open  his  lips  to  speak 
without  her  permission.  Her  hand  lay  within  two  feet  of 
him,  but  he  dared  not  touch  it.  A  gulf  seemed  to  have 
suddenly  yawned  between  them,  over  which  they  leaned 
with  white  faces  staring  into  each  other's  eyes.  Just 
when  Margaret  felt  that  she  could  not  endure  the  situation 
a  moment  longer,  a  loud  cry  of  terror  brought  them  both 
to  their  feet.  They  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  cry. 
The  child  they  had  observed  a  few  moments  before  had 
evidently  lost  its  footing  while  wandering  over  the  stones, 
and  had  rolled  down  the  hillside  a  short  distance  into  a 
scraggy  bush,  where  it  was  held  suspended  by  its  clothes. 
The  nurse,  who  was  a  tall,  brawny  woman,  could  have 
easily  rescued  the  child  from  its  perilous  situation,  as  she 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


355 


was  only  a  few  rods  above  it;  but  she  seemed  bereft  of 
her  senses,  and  stood  clasping  and  unclasping  her  hands  as 
she  screamed  at  the  top  of  her  voice.  Rodger  could  see 
from  where  he  stood  that  the  child's  limbs  and,  perhaps,' 
life,  depended  upon  the  toughness  of  the  fabric  of  which 
its  little  dress  was  made,  which  was  caught  in  the  bush 
and  held  the  child  dangling  over  a  ravine.  He  sprang 
around  the  side  of  a  rock,  near  which  he  and  Margaret 
had  been  sitting,  and  dashed  down  and  across  the  moun- 
tain side  toward  the  child,  leaping  and  springing  from 
bowlder  to  bowlder  like  a  deer.  The  distance  was  not 
great,  and  scarcely  a  minute  had  elapsed  before  he 
reached  the  child,  which  he  took  from  its  perilous 
position,  and  placed  in  the  arms,  of  the  nurse.  Margaret 
stood  on  the  jutting  rock  watching  him,  and  when  he 
turned  to  come  back  she  waved  her  handkerchief  to  him, 
which  he  answered  by  taking  off  his  broad-brimmed  hat 
and  swinging  it  around  his  head.  He  did  not  place  it 
on  his  head  again,  but  kept  it  in  his  hand  as  he  leaped 
across  narrow  crevices  and  sprang  from  rock  to  rock. 
Margaret  went  to  meet  him.  The  cry  of  terror  from  the 
nurse,  the  danger  of  the  child,  and  Rodger's  rapid  rush 
to  the  rescue,  had  wrought  her  up  to  quite  a  pitch  of 
excitement,  and  as  Rodger  brought  himself  *to  a  sudden 
standstill  in  front  of  her,  she  reached  out  both  of  her 
hands  to  him  in  welcome. 

"Well,  done,  Rodger,"'  she  exclaimed.  "You  have 
saved  a  life!" 

Rodger  took  the  extended  hands  in  his  own,  and  raised 
first  one  and  then  the  other  to  his  lips  with  courtly 
grace. 

"  I  ought  to  have  done  something  to  merit  such  a  wel- 
come as  this,"  he  said. 

"I'm  sure  you  did  do  something,"  replied  Margaret, 


356  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

withdrawing  her  hands  from  his  clasp.  "If  you  hadn't 
been  here  the  child  would  have  fallen  and  been  killed." 

"I  don't  know  as  it  would  have  been  killed  if  it  had 
fallen;  and  if  the  nurse  had  not  seen  that  some  one  was 
near  by,  she  might  have  taken  it  out  of  the  bush  herself. 
She's  a  stupid  creature." 

"Why,  Rodger,  how  you  ran.  I  never  saw  a  hunter  or 
a  guide  make  better  time,  or  spring  more  lightly,"  said 
Margaret,  glancing  up  and  down  his  stalwart  frame,  as 
they  were  walking  homeward.  "  Where  did  you  gain  such 
agility?" 

"  Have  you  forgotten  that  I  ranked  as  a  good  scholar  in 
college?"  said  Rodger,  with  a  smile.  "  Perhaps  you  don't 
know  how  much  of  my  reputation  was  won  by  my 
muscle." 

"Won't  we  have  a  splendid  story  to  tell  Aunt  Helen," 
said  Margaret,  clapping  her  hands  in  glee.  And  she 
made  a  splendid  story  out  of  it  half  an  hour  afterward, 
as  they  were  sitting  together  under  the  trees. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Early  in  July  Margaret  proposed  that  they  go  to 
Chamouny,  reminding  Miss  Sargent  of  a  promise  she  had 
given  the  summer  before,  when  their  tarrying  so  long  in 
Lucerne  had  broken  up  their  plan  of  visiting  Chamouny 
that  season;  her  promise  that  the  next  summer  they  would 
go  early  to  Chamouny  and  stay  there  as  long  as  Margaret 
wished. 

"Yes,  we'll  go,"  said  Miss  Sargent,  in  reply  to  Mar- 
garet's suggestion,  "and  we'll  stay  until  Christmas,  if 
you  say  so. " 

They  reached  Chamouny  as  much  in  advance  of  the 
army  of  tourists  as  they  had  Baden  six  weeks  before, 
and  this  gave  them  a  choice  of  rooms.  They  took 
four  on  the  second  floor  of  the  hotel  they  selected, 
all  of  which  opened  upon  a  piazza,  that  commanded 
a  beautiful  view  of  the  surrounding  mountains,  and 
the  valley.  Margaret's  delight  was  unbounded  as 
she  stood  on  the  piazza  and  looked  over  the  scene  spread 
out  before  her.  It  was  difficult  for  her  to  stay  indoors 
long  enough  to  unpack  her  trunks  and  assist  Miss  Sargent 
in  the  arrangement  of  their  parlor,  for  which  room  Miss 
Sargent  had  contrived  to  get  an  extra  supply  of  easy 
chairs,  lounges,  writing  tables  and  bookshelves. 

"  I  see  we  shall  make  a  long  stay  here,  Margaret,"  she 
said,  "  and  we  had  better  make  our  surroundings  as  home- 
like as  possible." 

The  second  day  after  their  arrival,  the  three  were  in 
their  sitting-room  gathered  around  a  heap  of  books  on 
the  floor  that  a  servant  had  just  emptied  there,  from  a  box 
which  he  had  unnailed  on  the  piazza.  Mr.  Latimer  was 

357 


358  RODGER  EATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

on  one  knee,  sorting  the  books,  which  he  handed  to  Mar- 
garet, who  placed  them  on  the  shelves  or  tables,  according 
to  her  taste.  Miss  Sargent  stood  by  looking  at  Rodger 
as  he  matched  the  voliynes  before  handing  them  to 
Margaret.  Some  of  these  books  came-  from  Miss  Sar- 
gent's library  in  Clinton,  some  from  Professor  McVey's 
in  Edgewood,  some  they  had  picked  up  in  the  various 
places  they  had  visited,  and  a  few  Mr.  Latimer  had 
brought  over  in  his  trunk.  As  he  was  assorting  these 
books,  one  that  he  took  from  the  floor  had  an  oldtime 
look  about  it  that  arrested  his  attention.  He  turned  to 
the  fly  leaf  and  read  Professor  McVey's  name  in  his  well- 
remembered  handwriting;  and  again,  as  on  the  hillside 
at  Baden,  the  past  overwhelmed  him.  His  first  thought 
was,  as  his  eye  rested  on  Professor  McVey's  writing, 
"  What  must  that  revered  dead  man  have  thought  of  him  ? 
what  must  have  been  his  abhorrence,  his  contempt,  his 
grief  over  the  sufferings  of  his  idolized  daughter — and  the 
bitterness  of  it?  no  reparation  could  be  made  him."  He 
raised  his  eyes  to  Margaret  who  was  standing  at  the  book- 
shelves across  the  room,  her  back  toward  him,  with  an 
impulse  to  fall  at  her  feet,  entreating  the  comfort  of  for- 
giveness. There  was  no  ardent  passion  in  his  eye  now, 
no  demand  or  importuning  for  love;  his  face  was  that  of 
a  self-convicted  culprit,  from  which  all  color  and  almost 
all  natural  expression  had  been  driven  by  the  throes  of 
remorse.  He  had  risen  to  his  feet  and  was  standing  with 
the  book  in  hand,  as  Miss  Sargent  turned  toward  him.  The 
pale  face  and  compressed  lips  touched  her  heart  instantly, 
she  glanced  at  the  fly-leaf  of  the  book  he  held,  stepped 
to  his  side,  took  his  disengaged  hand  between  her  own 
with  a  sympathetic  pressure,  as  she  looked  in  his  face 
with  an  expression  of  confidence  and  affection.  He  drew 
his  hand  from  hers,  laid  the  book  on  the  pile  on  the  floor, 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


359 


and  quietly  left  the  room  without  Margaret  being  aware 
that  anything  unusual  had  happened.  He  would  have 
suffered  less  that  day  had  he  known  that  his  old  friend 
had  never  changed  in  thought  or  feeling  toward  him,  so 
adroitly  had  Margaret  managed  to  shield  henfather  from 
any  sorrowing  he  might  have  had  for  her  sake,  had  lie 
known  that  Rodger  had  committed  an  act  by  which  he 
had  forfeited  all  the  respect  and  affection  he  had  felt  for 
the  son  of  his  dear  friend.  They  saw  no  more  of  Rodger 
until  evening,  when  he  joined  them  as  they  were  sitting 
on  the  piazza,  listening  to  the  tinkling  of  the  sheep  bells 
as  the  flocks  were  coming  home  down  the  valley,  and  to 
the  jodelling  of  some  one  off  on  the  mountain  side.  He 
said  little  as  they  sat  there  together  an  hour  or  so  before 
going  to  bed,  and  Margaret  didn't  notice  his  silence,  so 
absorbed  was  she  in  the  beauty  of  the  country  around  her. 
But  she  was  deeply  touched  the  next  day  by  a  new  ele- 
ment in  his  manner  toward  her;  a  sort  of  fatherly  solic- 
itude that  was  different  from  anything  she  had  ever  seen 
in  him  before,  and  which  at  times  brought  tears  to  her 
eyes,  so  full  was  it  of  brooding  tenderness.  As  soon  as 
their  rooms  were  arranged  to  their  liking,  they  settled 
down  to  a  regular  routine  of  daily  life  that  had  little 
variety  in  it.*  They  lived  out  of  doors  as  much  in 
Chamouny  as  they  had  in  Baden.  Their  days  were 
passed  in  climbing  mountains,  creeping  over  glaciers,  or 
wandering  through  forests;  and  if  the  day  was  fair  they 
invariably  lunched  away  from  the  hotel,  on  some  crag  on 
the  mountain  side,  beside  some  gurgling  brocTk  in  the 
forest,  or  on  some  sunny  knoll  in  the  valley.  There  were 
always  books  in  the  baskets  that  followed  them,  and 
usually  one  beside,  in  Rodger's  pocket.  But  wherever 
their  days  were  spent,  their  evenings  were  invariably 
passed  at  home,  in  their  parlor  if  it  chanced  to  rain,  with 


360  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

books,  letter-writing  and  music;  for  their  room  contained 
a  piano  for  Margaret,  and  Rodger  was  more  than  a  fair 
player  on  the  violin.  When  the  weather  was  clear,  they 
sat  hour  after  hour  on  the  piazza,  during  the  eve- 
nings, with  Mont  Blanc  and  the  wonderful  glacier  of 
that  range  in  full  view,  as  long  as  the  daylight  lasted. 
Margaret  frequently  began  her  day  by  watching  the  sun 
rise  over  the  mountains.  Her  room  was  a  corner  one, 
that  had  a  south  and  an  east  window,  and  from  the  east 
window  she  would  watch  the  deepening  color  of  the  sky, 
the  coming  of  the  sun  as  it  touched  Mont  Blanc,  and  then 
the  lesser  mountains,  and  then  the  glacier;  when  the 
sunshine  reached  the  grass  of  the  hotel  yard,  she  would 
go  back  to  bed  and  sleep  until  called  by  Miss  Sargent  to 
get  ready  for  breakfast. 

A  wonderful  change  was  taking  place  in  Margaret, 
as  these  happy  weeks  glided  by.  Gradually  her  health 
was  established,  and  with  restored  health,  came  back 
the  fair  flesh,  and  delicate  color;  the  brightness  of  eye, 
and  elasticity  of  step.  Miss  Sargent  and  Mr.  Latimer 
beheld  the  beautiful  miracle  that  was  being  wrought  out 
before  their  eyes,  with  feelings  akin  to  awe;  but  Mar- 
garet did  not  realize  when  her  heart  once  more  rested 
in  confidence  on  her  lover,  that  every  oTrop  of  blood  in 
her  veins,  every  nerve,  and  the  very  tissues  of  her 
body,  partook  of  a  new  power :  and  that,  in  the  at- 
mosphere of  happiness  that  enveloped  her,  her  be~ing 
was  blossoming  out  to  the  fullness  of  its  beauty.  Poor 
Rodger  was  half  the  time  in  a  delirium  of  love,  and 
half  the  time  depressed  by  fear  and  humility.  As  he 
saw  Margaret's  obvious  happiness,  and  her  restoration 
to  perfect  health,  he  could  not  doubt  that  she  loved  him; 
but  why  did  she  hold  herself  so  aloof,  he  asked  him- 
self; never  by  glance,  or  gesture,  by  a  touch  of  finger 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  361 

tips,  or  tone  of  voice,  grant  him  permission  to  speak  his 
love.  Margaret  had  no  idea  how  sorely  she  tried  him 
by  her  archness  and  pretty  ways.  If  at  times  her  charms 
assailed  his  self-control,  and  for  the  instant  he  turned 
toward  her  with  an  impetuous  movement,  or  a  face 
flushing  and  paling  with  emotion,  that  moment,  with  a 
mental  bound,  she  was  beyond  his  touch:  and  while  she 
had  not  moved  from  his  side,  she  had  thrown,  by  manner 
and  expression,  a  barrier  between,  that  he  dared  not 
cross;  and  before  which  his  pulses  cooled,  and  his 
heart  turned  sick  with  hope  deferred.  Nothing  could 
be  kinder  than  Margaret's  manner:  and  Rodger  was 
flattered  and  made  entirely  happy  for  the  time  being,  by 
her  evident  happiness  in  his,  society,  as  they  strolled 
through  the  woods,  and  walked  over  the  mountains 
together.  But  the  heart  of  the  young  man,  at  times, 
beat  impatiently,  and  demanded  a  recognized  position; 
a  closer  relation  than  this  of  serene  friendship.  But  he 
never  for  a  moment  forgot  that  he  had  written  to  Miss 
Sargent  that  he  would  speak  no  word  of  love  to  Mar- 
garet unbidden:  and  he  held  himself  to  this  promise 
with  such  patience  and  calmness  as  he  was  able;  ever 
looking  for  a  tacit  permission  from  Margaret  to  speak. 
One  evening  he  thought  his  probation  was  closing.  He 
and  Margaret  had  taken  a  long  walk  that  afternoon, 
and  on  their  return  were  sitting  on  the  piazza,  with 
Miss  Sargent.  Rodger  was  smoking,  and  Margaret  was 
sitting  a  little  way  off  "looking  at  the  mountains.  For 
some  time  Miss  Sargent  had  been  regarding  Mr.  Lat- 
imer  with  a  fixed  gaze;  she  broke  the  silence  by  saying: 

"  I  would,  like  to  know,  Rodger,  how  much  truth 
there  is  in  a  story  that  our  landlord  told  me  about  you 
this  afternoon." 

"I'll   be  glad  to   inform  you,    my  dear   Madam,    if  I 


362  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

know  anything  about  it,"  replied  Rodger;  "what  was 
the  story  ?" 

"  Why,  it  was  about  a  young  man  here  of  the  name 
of  Jerome,  a  young  American,  who's  traveling  with  a 
company  of  young  men;  the  landlord  said  he  had  con- 
sumption, and  couldn't  live,  and  was  destitute  of 
money,  and  that  you  were  paying  his  bills;  how  much 
truth  is  there  in  tfris  story,  Rodger?" 

For  a  few  moments  Mr.  Latimer  was  silent.  Mar- 
garet came  and  sat  down  beside  Miss  Sargent,  who 
spoke  again: 

"  Is  there  any  such  young  man  here  ?  what  do  you 
know  of  him?" 

"This  is  all  I  know,"  said  Rodger.  "  Sometime  last 
week,  I  was  sitting  around  the  corner,  on  the  piazza., 
smoking;  it  was  a  dark  night,  and  I  was  alone,  and  I 
supposed  everybody  "was  asleep  on  this  hall.  The 
window  of  the  corner  room  was  open,  but  there  was 
no  light  in  it.  After  awhile  two  men  commenced  to 
talk  in  the  room.  The  very  first  sentence  arrested  my 
attention:  it  was  something  like  this:  'To  think  that  I 
must  die  for  want  of  a  few  hundred  dollars. '  So  I  sat 
still,  and  listened  to  the  conversation,  and  learned  that 
the  speaker  was  from  Philadelphia,  a  clerk  in  a  store 
there,  that  his  father  and  mother  had  died  of  con- 
sumption, that  he  had  a  sister  teaching  in  the  public 
schools,  and  that  his  health  had  been  failing  for  some 
time;  and  that  some  physician  had  told  him  that  his 
only  -chance  was  to  take  a  sea  voyage,  and  to  spend 
some  time  in  a  mountainous  region.  The  trip — as  a 
matter  of  course — had  cost  more  than  he  had  expected, 
and  his  money  was  getting  low;  but  what  was  worse, 
some  physician  here  in  the  house  had  examined  his 
lungs,  and  advised  him  to  go  home  and  stay  there, 


RODGER    LATIMER'S    MISTAKE  363 

but  told  him  that  he  could  not  live  through  the  winter 
under  any  circumstances,  as  one  lung  was  gone,  and 
the  other  was  considerably  affected.  His  friend,  who 
I  found  out  afterward  was  a  theological  student,  gave 
him  sound  financial  advice,  and  orthodox  spiritual  com- 
fort, but  did  not  seem  to  possess  much  else  toward 
helping  him  out  of  his  troubles.  The  next  morning  I 
got  hold  of  all  the  facts  I  could;  it  is  one  of  those  sad 
cases  every  one  meets  with  in  summer  traveling." 

"You  need  not  say  in  summer  traveling,  Rodger,"  said 
Miss  Sargent,  "a  few  years  ago  I  was  in  Jacksonville  in 
January,  and  one  morning  as  I  came  out  from  breakfast, 
there  was  a  man  reclining  on  the  piazza  steps,  thin  as  a 
skeleton,  pale,  and  coughing  hard  enough  to  shake  his 
bones  apart.  I  sat  down  by  him,  and  learned  that  a  few 
moments  before  he  had  come  from  the  depot,  and  had 
given  his  last  cent  to  the  driver  for  his  hack  fare.  He 
was  evidently  near  death,  but  through  the  advice  of  some 
thoughtless  or  incompetent  physician,  he  had  paid  out  his 
last  cent  to  get  to  Florida,  expecting  when  there,  to  obtain 
some  light  employment  that  would  pay  for  his  board." 

As  she  ceased  speaking  a  moment,  Margaret  asked, 
"What  did  you  do  with  him,  Aunt  Helen?" 

"  Took  care  of  him,  as  a  matter  of  course.  We  got  a 
pleasant  room  for  him,  that  opened  into  a  garden  full  of 
roses,  and  a  nurse,  and  we  fed  him,  and  petted  him,  and 
read  to  him  whenever  he  wished  us  to." 

"Well?"  said  Margaret,  as  Miss  Sargent  again  ceased 
speaking. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  it  was  well,"  answered  Miss  Sargent  in 
a  grave  voice,  "he  only  lived  three  weeks,  and  he  was 
buried  under  a  magnolia  tree.  It  was  his  wish.  He  said 
those  last  weeks  of  his  life  had  been  the  happiest  he  had 
ever  known;  and  he  wished  to  lie  under  a  warm  sod.  A 


364  RODGER    LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

singular  idea,  wasn't  it  ?  But  he  told  me  he  had  hardly 
been  warm  for  two  years.  What  did  you  do  for  this 
young  Jerome,  Rodger,  .is  he  here  yet  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  must  have  seen  him,  he  sits  at  the  table 
next  to  ours;  he  wears  a  gray  suit,  has  black  hair  and 
black  eyes." 

"Have  you  seen  him,  and  talked  with  him  yourself?" 

"Yes." 

"Has  he  any  property  at  home?  Can  he  recover? 
How  long  is  he  to  stay  here?" 

"No,  he  has  no  property  at  home;  he  cannot  recover; 
so  a  physician  in  the  house  tells  me,  a  great  man  from 
Zurich:  as  to  his  stay  here,  he  leaves  to-morrow,  I 
believe."  As  Mr.  Latimer  said  this  he  struck  a  match, 
lighted  his  cigar  that  had  gone  out,  and  smoked  in  silence. 

"Come,  Rodger,"  said  Miss  Sargent,  "you  need  not 
expect  to  escape  me  in  this  way.  I  want  to  know  all 
about  the  young  man's  needs,  and  what  you've  done  for 
him;  what  plans  you  have  made  for  him,  and  if  there  is 
anything  that  I  can  do,  in  seeing  that  he  has  proper 
clothing,  or  in  supplying  him  with  needed  money." 

"  Suppose  I  answer  your  last  question  first,  my  dear 
friend.  There  is  nothing  you  can  do  in  supplying  him 
with  needed  money,  for  he  doesn't  need  any.  As  to 
clothing,  I  went  through  his  trunk  in  a  real  motherly 
way,  to  his  last  flannel  shirt.  As  to  his  plans,  I  don't 
know  anything  about  sick  men,  or  their  needs,  but  my 
Zurich  doctor  helped  me  out,  and  we  have  a  beautiful 
plan  reaching,  he,  the  doctor  says,  far  be)*ond  the  young 
fellow's  life." 

"  What  is  it  ?   What  are  you  and  the  doctor  going  to  do  ?" 

"  We  are  not  going  to  place  him  in  the  Home  for  Friend- 
less Women,  or  in  an  orphan  asylum,"  said  Mr.  Latimer, 
with  affected  seriousness. 


RODGER    LATIMER'S   MISTAKE  365 

"That  is  well,"  replied  Miss  Sargent,  with  like  seri- 
ousness, "  I  have  had  a  great  many  necessitous  cases  to 
look  after  myself,  and  from  the  experience  I  have  gained, 
I  should  say  that  you  and  the  great  Zurich  doctor  had 
done  very  well,  so  far.  I  suppose  that  neither  of  you 
advised  the  young  man  to  jump  off  Mont  Blanc  for  ex- 
ercise, or  swim  back  home  for  the  good  effect  of  a  salt 
water  bath." 

"  No,  we  did  not." 

"Now,  as  Margaret  and  I  know  what  you  and  Doctor 
Zurich  did  not  do,  please  tell  us  what  you  did  plan  to  do." 

Rodger  dropped  his  tone  of  mock  gravity,  as  he  replied: 
"We  planned  for  the  young  man  to  go  home,  reaching 
there  by  the  last  of  September.  His  sister  is  to  get  a 
substitute  to  hold  the  place  in  the  public  school  for  her, 
and  go  with  her  brother  to  the  Gulf  climate,  somewhere, 
and  stay  until,  well,  until  he  don't  need  her  attention 
any  longer.  The  doctor  says  he  cannot  possibly  live 
beyond  February,  but  that  he  will  not  suffer  much,  and 
that  he  and  his  sister  will  have  a  charming  time  through 
the  early  winter  in  that  Southern  climate.  Think  of  a 
doctor's  talking  that  way  of  a  man  who  is  to  die  in  a  few 
weeks!  But  let  us  go  in  to  dinner,  he  added/'  rising  to 
his  feet.  "  I  hope  we  shall  have  a  clear  night  to  see 
Mont  Blanc." 

"I  hope  so,  too,"  said  Margaret,  as  she  slipped  her 
hand  in  Miss  Sargent's,  as  they  started  for  the  dining- 
room;  "but  every  moonlight  night  clouds  up  so,  or  the 
mist  rises  over  the  mountains,  I  begin  to  be  afraid  we 
sha'n't  see  Mont  Blanc  by  moonlight,  after  all." 

Mr.  Latimer  pointed  out  young  Jerome  to  Miss  Sargent, 
as  they  were  seated  at  the  table. 

"What  do  you  think  of  him?"  asked  Rodger. 

"I  don't  think  it  shows  any  remarkable  knowledge  in 


366  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

your  Zurich  doctor,  to  see  that  a  man  in  his  condition 
cannot  live  long.  I  am  glad  you  are  smoothing  his  way, 
Rodger;  and  now  where  are  those  birds  you  promised  us 
for  dinner?1' 

Immediately  after  dinner,  Miss  Sargent  tarried  in  their 
parlor  to  receive  a  gentleman  from  New  York,  who  had 
sent  his  card  to  her.  As  he  entered  the  room,  Margaret 
withdrew  to  the  piazza,  where  Mr.  Latimer  found  her 
soon  after,  leaning  on  the  railing  gazing  at  the  mountains 
as  their  outlines  were  merging  into  the  dusky  horizon, 
and  at  the  stars  as  they  came  out  in  the  sky  above.  As 
he  stood  beside  her,  she  turned  her  head  toward  him  and 
said: 

"Aunt  Helen  and  I  have  been  talking  about  you, 
Rodger;  she  says  as  a  matter  of  course,  your  Zurich  doc- 
tor does  no  more  for  Mr.  Jerome,  than  to  give  his  pro- 
fessional opinion  without  charging  anything,  and  that  it 
is  you  who  planned  that  his  sister  should  go  south  and  take 
care  of  him.  I  think  that  it  is  very  beautiful  in  you  to 
do  so  much  for  a  poor,  friendless  young  man." 

"You  overrate  what  I  have  done,  Margery." 

"  It's  a  great  deal, "  she  replied,  "  think  what  a  difference 
it  will  make  to  Mr.  Jerome,  all  the  difference  there  is 
between  suffering  and  comfort." 

"  It  may  be  a  great  deal  to  him.  I  can  see  that  it  will 
be;  I'm  speaking  of  my  part  in  it;  it's  a  little  thing  for 
me  to  do." 

"A  little  thing!"  exclaimed  Margaret. 

"Yes,  a  little  thing,  Margery.  I  make  no  exertion, 
only  write  one  letter  to  a  Clinton  banker;  and  I  give  up 
nothing,  all  that  I  give  to  Jerome  is  simply  from  the 
overflow  of  my  income." 

"But  how  many  beautiful  things  you  might  have  pur- 
chased for  yourself  with  that  money." 


RODGER   LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  367 

"  There  are  no  beautiful  things  that  I  wish  for,  and  if 
there  were,  there's  money  enough  left  to  buy  them.  It's 
very  pleasant  to  hear  nice  things  said  about  you,  Margery, 
if  you  deserve  them;  but  there  really  is  no  value  to  be 
attached  to  what  I've  done  for  Jerome.  You  simply  can't 
see  a  man  surfer,  if  it  is  in  your  power  to  relieve  him." 

"I  suppose  you'll  admit  that  a  generous  heart  is  of 
value  ?" 

"  Yes,  of  the  very  greatest. " 

"  Many  would  never  have  thought  of  assisting  Mr. 
Jerome,  the  idea  of  it  would  never  have  occurred  to  them. 
It  takes  a  generous  nature  to  do  a  generous  act;  it  is  the 
heart  that  suggests  to  the  head." 

"  So  it  does,  but  the  generous  act  of  one  man  may 
require  no  sacrifice  on  his  part  of  time,  inclination,  or 
anything  whatever;  while  that  of  another,  may  require 
great  self-denial.  To  illustrate:  I  know  a  young  woman, 
who  had  it  in  her  heart  to  assist  a  needy  woman — and  the 
needy  woman  was  very  needy  and  helpless — and  this 
young  woman  gave  her  time  and  money,  and  social  in- 
fluence, to  gather  a  band  of  pupils;  and  then,  as  though 
that  were  not  enough  for  her  to  do,  in  order  to  make  her 
plan  successful,  she  opened  her  own  home,  and  turned  her 
parlor  into  a  schoolroom;  and  gave  up  her  mornings  to  a 
troup  of  little  children  and  their  teacher;'  and  did  it  all 
with  such  sweetness  and  womanly  tact,  that  the  object  of 
her  sympathy  never  dreamed  of  the  sacrifices  made,  but 
was  brought  to  believe  that  she  gave  as  much  as  she 
received."  Mr.  Latimer  ceased  speaking,  and  looked 
away  from  Margaret,  off  into  the  night.  All  of  the  time 
he  had  been  speaking,  Margaret  had  not  changed  her 
position  of  leaning  with  crossed  arms  on  the  railing;  but 
as  he  ceased,  she  raised  herself  and  stood  by  his  side. 
Her  heart  was  beating  fast,  and  as  he  turned  his  head 


368  RODGER    LATIMERS    MISTAKE 

toward  her,  she  pressed  her  left  hand  on  her  breast.  The 
light  from  the  parlor  shone  through  the  door  full  upon 
her.  Her  eyes  had  the  old  time  wide-open,  luminous 
look  in  them,  her  lips  were  slightly  parted,  and  the  wind 
stirred  the  fluffy  hair  above  her  brow.  Rodger's  heart 
ached  with  the  intensity  of  its  love,  as  he  looked  at  her. 
He  extended  his  hand,  and  she  laid  her  right  one  in  it, 
palm  to  palm.  Every  drop  of  blood  in  his  veins  rushed 
on  in  ecstasy  as  he  tightly  clasped  it;  his  time  had  come! 
It  was  but  for  a  moment,  though,  for  Margaret  quickly 
withdrew  her  hand,  turned  with  a  half-frightened  air,  and 
passed  rapidly  into  the  parlor,  where  she  ran  into  Miss 
Sargent's  arms,  who,  after  bidding  good -night  to  her 
guest,  was  just  then  going  out  on  the  piazza  to  join 
Rodger  and  Margaret. 

,  "You're  not  going  in  as  early  as  this,  are  you  dear?" 
said  Miss  Sargent,  as  she  passed  her  arm  about  Margaret 
and  turned  her  back;  "  I  want  to  tell  you  and  Rodger  of 
a  beautiful  man  that  we  are  to  see  to-morrow.  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  Doctor  Brunson,  Rodger?  Charles  Brun- 
son  ?"  she  asked,  as  she  seated  herself  and  Margaret  on  a 
lounge,  not  far  from  Mr.  Latimer. 

"Charles  Brunson?  No,  I  do  not  recall  any  such 
man,"  said  Rodger. 

"I've  met  him  only  a  few  times  myself;  he  was  at 
Mackinaw  last  summer,  Margaret,  when  we  were  there, 
but  perhaps  you  do  not  remember  him." 

Margaret  said  she  did  not;  and  Rodger  inquired  who 
he  was. 

"  He's  a  wonderful  man,"  Miss  Sargent  replied,  "  he  is 
thoroughly  educated,  and  has  traveled  all  over  the  world. 
He  inherited  a  fortune,  not  a  large  one,  but  his  income  is 
more  than  sufficient  for  his  wants,  and  there  never  was  a 
man  who  did  so  much  good  with  so  little  money.  He  is 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  369 

a  preacher,  but  he  has  no  special  church  under  his  charge; 
he  preaches  wherever  he  finds  a  vacant  pulpit,  wherever 
there  seems  to  be  a  demand  for  him  at  that  time.  He  is 
always  doing  good  to  some  one.  I  don't  believe  there's 
a  man  in  America,  who  has  befriended  as  many  young 
men  and  women;  there  is  no  end  of  the  sewing  machines 
and  type-writers,  that  he  has  assisted  dependent  girls  to 
buy;  or  of  the  young  men  he  has  helped  to  positions. 
And  then  his  correspondence  is  something  wonderful; 
he's  constantly  receiving  letters  from  all  over  the  coun- 
try, from  people  who're  in  trouble,  asking  for  advice,  and 
for  pecuniary  assistance,  and  for  all  sorts  of  things.  He 
answers  all  of  these  letters  himself,  and  keeps  up  a  regu- 
lar correspondence  with  a  large  number  of  young  people, 
for  the  purpose  of  giving  direction  to  their  mental  and 
moral  development." 

"And  was  it  this  Francis  de  Sales  you  had  in  the  par- 
lor just  now?"  asked  Rodger. 

"Yes,  he's  to  preach  in  the  English  church  to-morrow 
morning,  and  we'll  go  and  hear  him.  He's  a  beautiful 
speaker." 

The  next  morning  they  went  to  the  English  church  and 
listened  to  a  sermon  from  Doctor  Brunson,  on  Peter's 
denial  of  Christ,  the  thought  of  which,  was  the  brother- 
hood of  man.  Although  the  sermon  did  not  contain  a 
single  denunciation  of  any  of  the  methods  of  conducting 
business  at  the  present  day,  of  any  of  the  existing  social 
codes,  or  customs,  the  principles  evolved  from  Christ's 
life  and  teachings,  were  presented  in  so  simple  and  prac- 
tical a  manner,  that  the  mere  statement  was  a  terrible 
reouke,  and  a  fearful  denunciation,  of  nearly  all  the 
relations  held  between  man  and  man  in  this  Christian  era, 
world  over,  be  they  monetary,  or  social;  ecclesiastical, 
or  political. 
24  Rodger  Latimer's  Mistake. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Very  early  the  next  morning  Margaret  was  wakened 
out  of  a  deep  sleep  by  a  tapping  at  her  piazza  door.  '  She 
opened  her  eyes  upon  a  room  full  of  moonlight,  and  lay 
very  still  listening  When  the  rapping  was  repeated  she 
sprang  from  her  bed  and  went  to  the  door. 

"Who's  there?"  she  asked. 

"It's  me,  Margaret,  Aunt  Helen,"  replied  Miss  Sar- 
gent's well-known  voice.  Margaret  immediately  admitted 
her. 

"  I  woke  up  a  few  moments  ago,"  said  Miss  Sargent, 
"and  the  moonlight  was  so  bright  in  my  room  I  stepped 
out  on  the  piazza,  to  look  at  the  mountains.  They  are 
beautiful,  Margaret.  You  can  see  Mont  Blanc  almost 
as  clearly  as  in  daylight.  Get  on  your  clothes  and  wrap 
up  warm.  It  isn't  three  o'clock  yet,  but  you  might  wait 
six  months  for  such  a  view,  and  then  not  get  it.  You 
have  spoken  so  frequently  of  wishing  to  see  Mont  Blanc 
by  moonlight  that  I  was  afraid  you  might  be  disappointed 
if  I  didn't  call  you." 

Margaret  was  hastily  putting  on  her  clothes.  "  Indeed 
I  should  have  been,"  she  said,  as  she  drew  the  curling 
pins  from  her  front  hair,  passed  a  comb  through  her  bangs, 
and  then  tied  a  soft,  white  woolen  scarf  about  her  head 
and  cars.  No  cry  of  delight  passed  her  lips  as  she  stood 
without  and  looked  upon  the  scene  before  her.  Its  holy 
calm  silenced  human  speech.  The  moon  was  at  the  full 
and  shone  through  an  atmosphere  as  clear  as  diamond. 
It  was  three-quarters  over  its  night's  journey  and  hung  in 
the  southwest  large  and  bright.  The  air  was  free  from 
moisture,  and  perfectly  still.  The  heavens  were  nearly 

370 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


371 


bare  of  stars.  Right  in  front  of  Margaret  stood  Mont 
Blanc,  rising  aloft  above  the  lesser  mountains  that  seemed 
like  subjects  grouped  around  their  king.  Tkere  stood  the 
monarch,  not  leaning  against  the  sky,  as  it  so  often  ap- 
peared to  in  the  day,  but  standing  out  in  space,  with  an 
immensity  of  night  back  of  it  and  above  it,  towering  in 
its  mighty  strength  far  up  from  earth  into  the  heavens, 
where  it  rested  in  eternal  calm. 

"Rodger  must  not  lose  this,"  said  Miss  Sargent,  after 
she  and  Margaret  had  stood  side  by  side  for  some  time 
gazing  in  silence  on  the  scene.  She  turned  and  passed 
down  the  piazza  toward  his  room,  which  was  the  other 
side  of  their  sitting-room,  being  the  last  of  their  four 
rooms.  In  a  moment  she  returned  and  drew  a  chair  close 
to  Margaret,  who  had  seated  herself  in  her  absence,  but 
was  still  gazing  in  rapt  attention  on  the  glorious  pano- 
rama before  her.  Soon  Rodger  came  toward  them  with  a 
large  shawl  hanging  from  his  shoulders,  and  a  Turkish 
smoking  cap  on  his  head. 

"  Good-morning,  Miss  McVey,"  he  said  in  an  airy  tone, 
as  he  came  to  Margaret's  side,  opposite  to  Miss  Sargent. 
Margaret  did  not  return  his  salutation  in  words,  but 
turning  her  head  looked  up  to  him  as  he  stood  beside  her, 
with  a  smile  of  kind  greeting.  Immediately  he  caught 
her  mood,  and  after  gazing  a  moment  at  her  face  radiant 
with  the  intensity  of  her  emotion,  he  looked  off  into  the 
night  and  up  to  the  majestic  mountain.  The  smile  left 
his  lips,  he  crossed  his  arms  on  his  breast,  and  stood  in 
motionless  silence.  For  half  an  hour  no  word  was  spoken, 
then  Miss  Sargent  said: 

"  I  think  I  must  go  in,  Margaret,  I  would  like  to  stay, 
but  I  dare  not  sit  longer  in  this  night  air." 

"May  I  stay?"  asked  Margaret,  as  Miss  Sargent  rose 
to  go. 


372 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 


"Certainly,  my  dear,  by  all  means.  Rodger  will  stay 
with  you,  won't  you,  Rodger?" 

"I  shall  be  glad  to,"  said  Mr.  Latimer,  "if  Margery 
will  permit  me,  we  ought  not  to  lose  this  scene;  we 
never  shall  see  anything  like  it  again." 

As  Miss  Sargent  went  to  her  room  she  looked  to  the 
northeast  and  noticed  a  line  of  daylight  along  the  horizon, 
and  the  gray  of  morning  above  it,  softly  mingling  with 
the  moonlight  of  the  night. 

Mr.  Latimer  seated  himself  in  a  chair  by  Margaret's 
side.  For  a  long  time  he  was  fully  possessed  by  the 
solemn  beauty  of  the  surrpunding  scene,  but  after  awhile 
he  began  to  feel  the  presence  of  the  .woman  he  loved. 
Margaret  gazed  at  Mont  Blanc  and  he  gazed  at  her.  She  was 
not  thinking  of  Rodger  at  all,  and  he  saw  she  was  not, 
nor  was  she  thinking  of  herself.  She  was  lost  in  a  revery 
that  had  no  beginning,  and  led  nowhere.  But  he  felt  con- 
tent to  gaze  in  silence  on  the  enraptured  face;  the  fluffy 
hair  that  had  escaped  from  the  fleecy  head  covering,  the 
far-seeing  eyes,  and  the  delicate  curves  of  the  slightly 
closed  lips.  Something  of  the  defmiteness  of  daylight 
was  surrounding  them,  though  they  knew  it  not,  and  yet 
the  light  retained  a  little  of  the  dreamy  mistiness  of 
moonlight.  Rodger  sat  very  quiet,  hoping  that  Margaret 
would  turn  to  him,  and  after  awhile  she  did.  As  her 
eyes  rested  on  his  face,  she  read  in  every  lineament  the 
entreaty  of  his  heart.  He  had  not  spoken  a  word  since 
Miss  Sargent  left  them,  and  he  was  absolutely  unable  to 
utter  a  commonplace  sentence,  as  Margaret  turned  toward 
him,  nor  did  he  strive  to  conceal  the  passionate  pleadings 
of  his  love.  There  was  a  downward  flutter  of  her  eye- 
lids, a  moment's  hesitation,  then  she  raised  her  eyes  again 
to  his  face,  and  read  every  word  written  thereon.  Instantly 
there  came  a  rush  of  color  over  her  neck  and  brow,  and 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  373 

as  Rodger  saw  the  red  wave  surging  up,  he  trembled  from 
head  to  foot.  Margaret  quailed  and  dropped  her  eyes, 
then  turned  them  to  the  mountains  an  instant,  and  then 
immediately  back  to  his  face.  He  sat  motionless  as  marble, 
only  his  white  face  pleading  before  her.  The  entire 
nature  of  the  girl;  reason,  will,  and  feeling,  bowed  in 
obedience  to  the  immutable  law  of  love,  and  as  she  leaned 
affectionately  toward  him,  he  dropped  upon  one  knee  be- 
side her  chair,  and  clasped  both  arms  around  her,  and 
held  her  to  his  breast.  For  a  long  time  nothing  was  said, 
neither  could  speak.  After  the  first  ecstatic  sense  of 
possession — that  tumultuous  joy  that  follows  the  meeting 
of  heart  with  heart — had  subsided  somewhat,  so  that  con- 
secutive thought  was  re-established,  the  mind  of  each 
turned  to  the  past.  Margaret  remembered,  as  though 
thinking  of  an  unpleasant  dream,  all  of  her  months  of 
sorrow  and  loneliness,  all  of  her  bitterness  of  soul,  and 
the  dread  she  had  felt  of  the  years  that  awaited  her  in 
middle  life,  and  old  age,  should  she  be  unfortunate  enough 
to  live  to  old  age.  And  now  as  she  felt  Rodger's  heart 
beating  beneath  her  head,  his  cheek  pressed  to  her  brow, 
and  his  arms  around  her;  she  was  ashamed,  that  in  her 
hours  of  suffering,  and  apparent  desolation,  she  had 
exclaimed  against  God,  and  questioned  His  love  and 
goodness.  Humbly  she  prayed  for  forgiveness,  and  a 
faith  founded  on  a  belief  in  the  immutable  justice  and 
goodness  of  a  Supreme  Being. 

Margaret  gained  the  calmness  of  thought  long  before 
Rodger  did,  and  his  confession  was  not  to  heaven,  as 
hers  had  been.  He  thought  of  the  last  time  he  held 
Margaret  in  his  arms,  as  his  promised  wife,  on  the  little 
piazza  of  the  Edgewood  home,  and  then,  how  he  had 
called  another  woman  wife.  Oh !  the  bitter  waters  he  had 
wrung  out  for  Margaret  to  drink !  The  years  passed  before 


374  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

him,  what  they  had  been  to  him,  what  they  must  have 
been  to  her;  could  she  forgive  it?  was  it  possible  that  she 
couid  love  him  without  accusation  and  recrimination?  He 
raised  his  head  from  hers,  upon  which  it  had  been  resting, 
and  as  he  tightened  the  clasp  of  his  arms  around  her,  he 
cried: 

"Oh!  Margery,  my  love!  my  only  love!  can  you  ever 
forgive  me?  Peter  denied  Christ  three  times,  and  Christ 
forgave  him;  can  you  forgive  me?" 

"Hush!  Rodger,  don't  speak  in  that  way,"  she  replied, 
and  as  she  spoke,  she  raised  her  hand  and  laid  it  with  a 
soft  pressure  on  the  side  of  his  face.  How  well  he 
remembered  the  sweet  caress!  The  touch  was  light,  but 
no  words  could  have  meant  as  much.  It  told  him  of 
complete  forgiveness,  of  a  perfect  re-establishment  of  the 
old  relation  between  her  and  himself.  The  reaction  shook 
him  with  tremendous  power,  and  he  burst  into  tears,  and 
sobbed  like  a  woman,  as  he  bowed  his  head  again  upon 
Margaret's.  She  wept  with  him,  and  comforted  him,  as 
only  a  gentle  woman  can  comfort  the  man  she  loves,  when 
he  suffers. 

"  And  you  are  sure,  darling,  that  you  love  me  as  much 
as  you  used  to?"  he  asked,  after  she  had  soothed  him  into 
peace,  and  they  had  both  become  calm. 

"Very  sure,  Rodger,  and  with  an  unalterable  love,  for 
this  is  based  on  a  positive  knowledge  of  your  character." 

"You  ought  to  have  known  me  well,  "said  Rodger,  "  in 
those  years,  when  we  lived  so  much  together." 

"  In  those  years  I  never  thought  about  knowing  you,  I 
only  loved  you,"  she  replied. 

Rodger  caught  the  little  hand  that  was  wandering  in 
light  touches  from  his  cheek  to  his  brow  and  hair,  and 
pressed  it  to  his  lips.  He  kissed  the  warm  palm,  and  each 
dainty  finger.  Then  he  took  her  other  hand,  the  left  one, 


RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE  375 

and  looked  at  it.  It  wore  no  ring.  He  held  it  in  one  of 
his  own  and  passed  the  other  gently  over  it,  as  he  seemed 
lost  in  thought.  After  a  little  he  took  a  small  box  from 
his  inside  coat  pocket,  and  from  the  box  took  a  ring, 
which  he  placed  in  Margaret's  hand  for  her  to  look  at. 

"It's  the  old  ring,  Margery,"  he  said,  in  a  very  sad 
voice,  scarcely  above  a  whisper.  "I  came  across  it 
accidentally,  more  than  a  year  ago.  Since  last  September 
I  have  always  carried  it  about  me.  May  I  put  it  on  your 
finger  again?" 

She  smiled  as  she  gave  it  back  to  him  without  saying  a 
word,  and  he  placed  it  on  the  finger  which  it  had  encircled 
for  more  than  a  year,  in  the  happy,  careless  past.  He 
did  not  look  at  her  as  he  placed  it  there,  but  looked  at 
the  hand  with  the  ring  on  that  he  held  in  his  own.  After 
a  few  minutes  he  said,  without  raising  his  eyes: 

"  It's  an  old  fashioned  setting,  Margery,' we'll  have  it 
reset." 

"  No,  I  like  it  better  as  it  is,  I  shall  never  have  it 
changed." 

He  raised  his  eyes  to  the  girlish  face  so  full  of  happi- 
ness, and  placing  his  arm  around  her  shoulder,  drew  her 
to  him  and  kissed  her  lips  with  as  unselfish  a  devotion  as 
a  doting  mother  might  have  kissed  the  child  of  her  life. 
Why  was  it,  in  obedience  to  what  mental  law,  that  just 
then,  as  he  leaned  over  the  maiden  he  loved,  the  image  of 
Marie  Edwards  rose  before  him? 

"  Just  now,  my  darling,"  he  said,  as  he  raised  his  head, 
"a  thought  of  Marie  came  to  me;  shall  I  tell  you  of  her? 
as  near  as  I  can,  how  I  came  to  marry  her,  how  I  thought 
I  loved  her?  As  near  as  I  can,  I  say,  Margery,  for  I 
don't  think  it  possible  to  give  a  very  clear  account  of  the 
relation." 

"Yes,    Rodger,"  replied  Margaret,    as  she  raised    her 


376  RODGER  LATIMER'S  MISTAKE 

head  from  Mr.  Latimer's  arm;  "  I  would  like  to  have  you 
tell  me  all  about  Marie,  but  not  now,  sometime  tell  me 
all  you  can,  everything." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  my  darling  love.  You 
and  I  must  have  nothing  from  each  other.  There  must 
be  nothing  we  cannot  speak  of.  I'm  sure  that  I  am  not 
only  willing,  but  anxious,  to  lay  my  life  bare  hefore  you, 
with  all  of  its  weaknesses  and  mistakes.  I  don't  want  to 
have  a  skeleton  in  our  home." 

"You  are  right,  Rodger,"  said  Margaret,  "there  must 
not  be  any  locked  up  rooms  in  our  hearts  that  we  cannot 
enter  together,  nothing  hidden  away  that  we  fear  to 
stumble  upon.  There  must  not  be  anything  to  be  avoided 
between  us.  Sometime  tell  me  all  about  Marie,  and  all 
about  your  married  life  with  her."  She  spoke  as  calmly 
as  though  speaking  of  some  one  who  was  a  stranger  to 
them  both.  "I  could  not  bear  to  live  with  you,  haunted 
by  the  fear  that  some  chance  word  of  mine  might  be  like 
a  spark  to  a  magazine  of  memories.  We  don't  want  any 
ground  whereon  either  of  us  might  chance  to  step,  to 
return  a  hollow  sound,  and  I'm  afraid  this  might  be  the 
case,  if  we  do  not,  with  the  most  perfect  frankness,  go 
over  with  each  other  all  of  the  experiences  of  our  lives 
during  the  years  of  our  separation,  since  that  August 
when  I  last  saw  you  in  Edgewood. " 

Her  words  deeply  affected  Mr.  Latimer.  "  Do  you 
know  what  you  are  asking,  my  dearest,  my  darling?"  he 
said. 

"Yes,  perfectly,"  she  replied,  as  she  held  both  of  his 
hands  close,  as  though  to  quiet  his  great  agitation.  "  In 
doing  this,  we  may  perhaps  give  ourselves  some  sad  hours, 
but  after  all,  will  there  not  be  more  of  happiness  than 
sadness  in  them?  And,  Rodger,"  she  continued,  look- 
ing him  in  the  face,  "can  you  not  go  over  every  inch 
of  the  way,  holding  my  hand  in  yours?" 


RODGER   LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 


377 


"Every  inch  of  it,  Margery,"  he  replied,  confidently 
returning  her  gaze.  "But  it  is  not  my  telling  you  all 
about  myself,  everything  in  my  life  to  the  last  detail, 
during  these  three  years;  for  I  really  believe  that  with 
my  arm  around  you,  darling,  you  knowing  how  com- 
pletely I  love  you;  you  could  bear,  perhaps,  to  hear  all 
about  my  infatuation  and  merited  disappointment,  for 
you  never  did  me  wrong;  but,  Margery,  it's  different 
with  me,  I  cruelly  wronged  you;  and  while  I  see  the 
force  of  what  you  say,  and  I  know  that  it  is  best, 
and  I  can  understand  the  sweet  serenity  that  will  bless 
our  married  life,  when  as  husband  and  wife  we  sit  at 
our  own  fireside  with  our  lives  fully  known  to  each 
other — and  I  know  it  must  be  so,  and  I  would  not  have 
it  otherwise — yet,  Margery,  you  will  have  to  be  patient 
with  me,  and  tell  me  very  gently,  of  those  dark  days  I 
brought  to  you." 

"O  Rodger,  you  don't  quite  know  me  yet,"  said 
Margaret,  "believe  me,  when  I  say  that  I  never  knew 
how  much  there  was  in  life  until  this  morning,  and  just 
now,  I  would  not,  if  I  could,  change  the  past.  But 
don't  let  us  talk  of  it  now,  it  will  come  along  nat- 
urally in  its  place,  as  we  live  together.  Shall  we  go 
to  Aunt  Helen?" 

They  both  rose  to  their  feet.  They  had  not  noticed 
the  lapse  of  time  as  they  had  been  talking,  they  had  not 
seen  the  moonlight  on  the  mountain  side  fade  out  before 
the  dawn,  its  yellow  light  give  place  to  the  purplish  hue 
of  the  morning  clouds.  It  was  night,  when  they  sat 
down  there  together,  with  the  silence  of  three  years 
between  their  hearts,  but  it  was  full  day  as  they  stood 
side  by  side,  Rodger  holding  in  his  hand  Margaret's 
hand,  that  wore  the  old  betrothal  ring.  Before  going 
in  to  *;ee  Miss  Sargent,  they  waited  a  few  minutes  to 


378  RODGER  LATIMER'S   MISTAKE 

see  the  sunrise.  It  touched  the  top  of  Mont  Blanc,  then 
passed  swiftly  from  peak  to  peak  of  the  lower  mountains 
down  whose  snowy  sides  the  light  quickly  came,  gild- 
ing with  brightness  the  myriads  of  crags  and  rocks, 
and  falling-  at  last  upon  the  meadows  below  in  a  golden 
sheen. 

Rodger  took  off  his  cap,  and  stood  with  bared  head,  as 
he  turned  his  eyes  from  the  mighty  mountains,  to  the 
slight  girl  by  his  side,  who  stood  in  a  radiance  of  sun- 
light, looking  into  the  coming  day. 


THE    END. 


A     000  035  872     1 


